Channeling Sherlock
by calgarry
Summary: Becky seems like a normal kid, obsessed with TV shows and Sherlock Holmes. However, she has a secret life – she is a top spy with considerable physical abilities and intelligence. When her life is threatened, she must turn to her favourite character for inspiration. But can Sherlock Holmes help her? My interpretation of the Reichenbach Falls, with different circumstances and ages.
1. Prologue

Becky's heart was in her mouth as she ran for dear life, her breath impossibly loud in the still night air. Strands of her long blonde hair caught in the branches as she raced past, leaping over tree roots in the park and glancing at her watch. 360 seconds. Could she make it? Doubtful. But she had to try. She had come this far, and there was no way she was going to give up now. After 4 months working on this case, hundreds of hours poring over countless documents and blueprints and articles – she was not going to stop, not now. She was so close to the bridge, just another hundred metres…

Becky gasped and nearly stumbled as a sharp gunshot over her head shattered the stillness of the night. Dammit, now there'd be more people coming, attracted to the noise as moths to a light. Fifty metres left now, and they hadn't shot at her again. Maybe the first one was a warning, maybe they didn't want her dead, maybe…

Famous last words. Two shots fired in quick succession made Becky dive for cover behind a tree, wasting valuable time. Another glance at her watch told her that she only had 240 seconds left, and she was exhausted. Damned if she was going to give up now, though. With one final effort, she pushed off from the wide tree trunk and raced towards the bridge, now only ten metres away. She reached the bridge, pulled the grappling hook out of her pack and used it to latch onto the tower closest to her - one of two ugly metal structures supporting between them a couple of light-up speed limit signs. She calculated as she ran the point where she would have to jump to be able to swing across to the sign, to get maximum swing distance so she could have the sign between her and the thugs. As she pushed off from the point, the rope held fast and got her across to the other side of the gap. Thankfully, the thugs that were chasing her ran right past the bridge.

Becky took a deep breath. This was the most critical point of the plan, the getaway. If even one thing went wrong here, she could get killed, or worse, captured. Taking careful breaths to control her nerves, and trying not to look down at the motorway below, she set to work, attaching the grappling hook to the harness she wore around her waist and testing the strength. She attached the other end to the sign and got ready to lower herself down, trying not to think about the 10-metre drop if the rope did not hold. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the rope with all her might and slowly began to lower herself down. Her watch told her she had only 18 seconds left, but 18 seconds is a long time if you spend it dangling over a motorway, waiting for a car that might never come. At 15 seconds, she saw the headlights in the distance, taking their sweet time to come to her. She began to watch the line painted on the road, knowing she must let go of the rope when the headlights in the distance passed that line.

At 10 seconds, there was another loud crack to shatter the silence. It made her flinch, and the rope swayed alarmingly. She swore out loud. The rope had to stay completely straight, or she ran the risk of missing the car and falling splat onto the hard motorway below. She heard the yells of the thugs above her, who had evidently seen her and were taking pot-shots at her in the darkness. 5 seconds to go. Three more cracks made her jump, but the rope stayed still thankfully. 3 seconds...2…1…

She let go just as the car passed the line, and thanks to careful research, planning, and measurements, she fell into the vehicle. She jumped up, shut the sun roof, and yelled, "Go, go, go!" Watson winked at her in the rear-view mirror, and floored the accelerator as the car sped off into the night.


	2. Threats

**Disclaimer: **I own all of this chapter except for the code-names of the agents, which I have 'borrowed' from the story of Sherlock Holmes, specifically the BBC TV series; and Becky's wardrobe and her method of deduction are also borrowed.

* * *

ONE YEAR EARLIER

Rebecca sauntered out of the store, relishing the warmth of the new duffel coat she had bought. Her head was high as she hurried down the street, eager to show her friends the Sherlock-style coat she now owned, one she had been dreaming about for weeks. When she met her friends, they all showed polite interest in her new garment; but they were more interested in Grace's new phone, she could tell. Phones bored Becky, so she sat down and tried to deduce facts about the passers-by, just like Sherlock Holmes did. She was practising this, and she was getting better. Her green eyes flicked from person to person.

Woman hurrying past with a dog: late for a haircut, looking after her sister's dog because she didn't have the heart to tell her sister that she hates dogs.

Man with a walking stick: picking up a birthday present for his nephew, doesn't really need the stick but uses it to get sympathy and a sure seat on the bus.

Gaggle of girls walking past, admiring a boy: don't waste your time with him, girls, he's in town to meet his boyfriend.

Man with a camera: pretending to photograph scenery, but more likely taking pictures of a young woman on the bench next to Becky and her friends.

And so on. She was so engrossed in her findings that she almost missed her friends calling her to go to McDonald's. Picking at fries and a milkshake, she made some more deductions about the people at the restaurant.

Harried woman behind the counter: drunken, sometimes abusive husband; she left him alone with their kids even though she doesn't really trust him.

Quiet adolescent boy cleaning tables: doing this job to pay for upcoming university, couldn't wait to get home and play video games.

Doing this calmed Becky, made her feel like she could do something. She hoped to make a career out of this skill, maybe become a consulting detective like her hero. Her secret job gave her an advantage with this, helped her skills; but she wanted to be well-known for her detective work, not have to do it in secret under the cover of darkness. As four o'clock finally rolled around, she made her excuses and left, hurrying back home to show her mother the new coat. Maybe she could persuade her to let her get a deerstalker next…

Two nights after Rebecca was pretending to enjoy herself in McDonald's, Mike strode briskly down the hallway in the old warehouse, heading for the gym area where he had arranged to meet his girlfriend. The boy, code name Watson, pulled the door open confidently and stopped – she wasn't there. "She's late – again" he grumbled to himself as he pulled the door shut behind him and went to move the crash mat that lay in the middle of the floor. Suddenly, there was an ear-piercing shriek from above his head, and he leapt backwards and stared upwards as Becky threw herself off one of the ceiling beams, twisting in the air to land gracefully on the crash mat right in front of him. She flipped forward and stood up, grinning from ear to ear at him. "I guess you got over your fear of heights then." he remarked casually and she burst out laughing, jabbing him in the side until they collapsed onto the crash mat in each other's arms.

"How's it going, Sherlock?" he asked and felt her sigh against him.

"Okay, I guess" she said.

"Friend trouble again?"

"Yeah, how did you guess?"

"You always have friend trouble. Why don't you get some new friends?"

She pulled away from him and looked right into his dark eyes. "It's not always that simple, Watson. At any rate, it's not just friends this time."

"Did you get another one of those mysterious notes?"

She stiffened and looked away. He took that as a yes.

"What did it say?"

"See for yourself."

She yanked the paper out of her pocket and turned away, staring stonily at the opposite wall. It was an A5 sheet, normal paper, typed in black Times New Roman font. He read it out loud. 'Stop what you are doing, or your nearest and dearest suffer.'

"Well, that's pretty much what the other three said, isn't it?" He spoke lightly, hoping to cheer her up. Her back still turned, she carefully pulled the envelope the note had come in from her pocket and pushed it across the mat towards him. He opened it, pulled out the photos and gasped. They were surveillance pictures, obviously of people she knew. There was a middle-aged woman, presumably her mother, with a young girl, Sherlock's sister no doubt. A middle-aged man was striding down the street, holding a briefcase. An elderly couple holding hands at a zebra crossing - grandparents. A gaggle of girls on a street in town, near McDonald's, with Sherlock sitting on the edge of the group looking intently at another pedestrian. He flipped through these to the last photograph and stopped. His blood ran cold. He was staring at a picture of him, leaving his school. He could tell it was last Friday, because he had his trumpet case with him, and was talking to his mate Steve.

He looked up to find Sherlock looking at him, measuring his reaction. "How did they know?" he asked her helplessly.

She just shook her head. "I don't know, but they've evidently been watching me for some time now"

"How do you figure that one out?"

"My father got rid of that suit a couple of months ago, gave it to the poor. Watson, what can I do?"

Now it was his turn to shake his head. "There's nothing you can do but stop now. They'll harm your family, and your friends…and me. I'm sorry, Sherlock."

"There must be some way to stop these bastards. I'm going to talk to Mycroft about this, and Mrs Hudson. I can't give this up, but I can't have the people I love harmed."

* * *

A/N Well, there you go - another chapter of the story. You may have worked out by now that it is only loosely based on the story of Sherlock, and will not involve any of the actual characters from the series - just their names.

Sorry if there's any gender confusion with this to do with the code-names. Becky (Rebecca) is Sherlock, and her boyfriend Mike is known as Watson.

Thank you for reading the story, and I hope you enjoyed it so far! I'll be putting up the next chapter in a couple of days. Please review this story so far, tell me what you like/don't like so I can make the next chapter even better!


	3. Suspended

**A/N** Hi there, thanks for reading thus far in the story! I'd like to say hi to my two followers, how are you guys? Sorry this chapter is late in coming, all sorts of things came up. Read on, Macduff!

**Disclaimer:** I own everything in this chapter except the code names and Becky's wardrobe, both of which I stole from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC.

* * *

ONE MONTH LATER

"…and we're very disappointed with your marks this term, Miss Lucas. You have been such a good student in the past, but in the past month your grades have come down rapidly. If you fail one more assignment I will call your parents personally. You haven't mentioned anything wrong at home, yet your teachers report that you are distracted in class, never answering questions and handing in work late and incomplete! I am very disappointed in you, Rebecca, especially…"

Becky sighed inwardly as she listened to the deputy head ranting at her, towering over her chair in the cramped office. Mrs Barker was loud and annoying at the best of times, but it was even worse today due to the messy divorce she was going through. Barker was a good name for her, Becky thought idly while she waited to be let out. After what seemed like an hour, the formidable teacher got tired of yelling at Becky and sent her out. Bella was waiting outside the office, and they set off down the corridor together.

"Are you all right?" Bella asked gently, scanning Becky's face as they walked past the science labs.

Oh yes, I'm fine; I've just been receiving notes threatening to kill everybody I care about, including you, Becky thought sarcastically but did not say. Instead she replied, "Why shouldn't it be?" in a challenging manner, hoping that would discourage further conversation.

"It's just…you seem so distant lately, Becky. I know you're the one who reads people, but I know you, and I can tell that something's wrong. There's something you're not telling us. So come on, what is it?"

Oh, it was tempting just to tell her, to confess everything. But she could not. It would put Bella in more anger than she was already, and that wasn't fair. Instead, Becky just shook her head and quickened her pace, hurrying down the corridor to her next class just as the bell started to ring. A cop-out solution, she knew, but that was the one thing Becky could not tell Bella.

Watson's curly hair quivered with rage as he read the latest addition to Becky's note collection. It was crudely constructed from newspaper clippings, and read, 'Rebecca Lucas, we know where you are. Stop what you are doing or your friends will suffer.' He looked up at Sherlock, and saw that her normally happy eyes were glistening with tears. "Oh, come on baby, it's not that bad" he exclaimed as he enveloped her in a comforting hug. "Mrs Hudson will work out something, or Mycroft" he murmured into her blonde hair. The door opened and they jumped apart guiltily, looking up to see Mrs Hudson and Mycroft stride into the room. "Speak of the devil" Sherlock muttered as they all sat down on the uncomfortable chairs that were all the meeting room had to offer. Mycroft's umbrella said that he had been busy at work at the moment, and Sherlock hoped it wasn't about her. Mrs Hudson's face was lined with worry, never a good sign. The notes were spread out on the table in between the four people.

"Well, Sherlock, I'm afraid it's bad news." Mycroft looked unusually grave as he said this. "We can't track the notes, and whoever is sending them is clearly prepared to stop at nothing to make you stop."

"We think it maybe best, dear, if you take a break for a while." Mrs Hudson's voice was kind, but her eyes invited no debate on the subject. Her meaning was clear, Sherlock was suspended from the agency, if only temporarily.

Her world tipped upside down. "You mean…but…no! Please…"

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. It's just too dangerous."

"But you can't just kick her out, because of some anonymous note! That's ridiculous! She's one of your best agents!" Watson, standing up for Sherlock, which she was grateful for.

"While that may well be…"

Mrs Hudson was interrupted by Anderson at the door, holding a phone. "Urgent message for Sherlock" he said, holding the phone out to her. She jumped up and ran into the hallway, saying, "Hello?" The three in the room heard her voice, muffled by the door, sounding more and more panicked by the second. After an eternity she burst into the room, grabbed her duffel coat – she never went anywhere without it now – and said in a rush, " I've got to go, my grandfather was hurt, in an accident and…oh no." She was staring at the notes on the table, each worse than the last. They all knew what she was thinking, that the note-writer was serious. "Goodbye!" she yelled as she sprinted from the room, choking back a sob as she turned the corner. "Sherlock!" Watson called but she was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hoped that you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading this story, and another chapter will be up shortly. We are fast approaching the big event of the story, the Reichenbach Fall. Please review if you can, all feedback is greatly appreciated even if you are saying how much you hate the story. Thank you!


	4. Falling

**A/N:** Hello there! Well, this is going to be quite a long chapter, but it's also the most important chapter. Please read and review.

**Disclaimer:** I own most of the plot of this chapter, just not the code names, the quotes from Sherlock, and Becky's method of deduction and falling are also from Sherlock.

* * *

TWO WEEKS LATER

Sherlock lay on her back on a crash mat, thinking about what had happened. Three people – three people! – had been in hospital already, just because of her 'job'. In the week after her grandfather was hit by the car, her friend Bella had broken her arm slipping on a shop floor and Grace's precious new phone was 'dropped' into the ocean, and in the last week, her mother had been mugged. Coincidence? She didn't think so. But why were they still targeting her, these unknown people? She had stopped working, this was her first visit to the warehouse after the ill-fated meeting. It just didn't make sense.

Sherlock sprang up and stormed over to the closest punch bag, letting out all her frustrations. She was really laying into it when someone grabbed her from behind. She spun around and her fist had met his jaw before she realised it was Watson.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried, before hugging him and helping him up from the floor. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, or I will be. I guess it was silly, grabbing you from behind like that when you're so worked up. I wanted to surprise you. I haven't seen you in two weeks." He looked so much like a lost puppy that she laughed. "Ha! Made you smile!" he grinned and she gave him a gentle shove.

"Well done, Watson." They both jumped; they hadn't heard Mrs Hudson enter the gym. "Good to see you back, Sherlock. Sorry about the expulsion business, but it was necessary at the time."

"No, I understand. What I don't get is why they're still targeting my friends and family. What do they want?"

"I think we can assume, dear, that they want you out of the picture...shall we say…more permanently."

Sherlock's blood ran cold. "You don't mean…"

Mrs Hudson's expression was answer enough. "Yes, dear."

"But…how do you know?"

We received another note this morning, this time sent to this building."

Becky took the note from Mrs Hudson and read it through slowly. They could see her cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Wait, I'm confused," Watson said. "What do they want now?"

The two female faces turned towards him, young and old.

Sherlock was the first to break the uncomfortable silence, her normally strong voice shaking.

"They…they want me dead, Watson. They want me to die."

Sherlock, Watson, Mrs Hudson and Mycroft were seated around the table in the meeting room once again. History is repeating itself, Sherlock thought. And these chairs haven't improved. She stared down at her hands for a while before looking up at the other people around the table. They were all looking at her worriedly, then pretended they hadn't been when she looked at them.

Mycroft spoke first, shuffling some papers in front of him. "Well, I'm sure you all know about the situation at hand."

"'Situation.'" Watson snorted, and received a glare from Mrs Hudson.

Mycroft ignored him and continued. "The sender of these anonymous notes wants Sherlock to disappear permanently. We know already that they have surveillance on Sherlock, and her close friends and family; so they will know whether or not she is…alive."

"But how can they know for sure?" Becky asked. "I mean, Sherlock faked his death, and everybody believed him…" She trailed off when she spotted Mycroft and Watson looking at her as if she was crazy. "Just saying, she mumbled, before resuming her inspection of her hands.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea." Now it was Mycroft's turn to be stared at. "If we can convince them that she is alive…"

"No, absolutely not!" Mrs Hudson's eyes were blazing.

"Why not?" Mycroft's eyes were cold and hard.

"It's…it's too dangerous! Far too dangerous!"

"What's the worst that could happen? I could die?" Becky asked scornfully. "Well, that's the alternative, isn't it?"

"But…but…but…" Mrs Hudson could not think of a good answer to that, so she shrank back into herself.

By now Watson was nodding and beginning to grin. "Yeah! I mean, she could pretend to jump off a roof, just like Sherlock did!"

"Which roof should I jump off?" It was asked jokingly, but Watson took it as a fair question.

"How about your school? That's got a tower, hasn't it?"

"How high is that, Sherlock?" Mycroft inquired?

"About, oooh, I don't know, 50m?"

"That sounds reasonable. I'm sure that can be arranged, can't it Mrs Hudson?" The last part was directed at the older woman, who had been studiously ignoring the conversation up to that point.

"What? Oh, yes, definitely. Anything you say, anything said by the might Mycroft, is law. As Mycroft commands, so it is done…" She wandered out of the room, muttering to herself.

"Well, Sherlock, what do you think? Are you able to fake your own death?"

ONE MONTH LATER

Becky woke up, and her heart sank. Today was the day. She had hardly been able to sleep all night, lying awake worrying about the part she had to play the next day. The most important role of her whole life. Her death.

She got up and dressed quickly, trying to prepare herself mentally for the task ahead. She struggled into her ugly school uniform, and then turned to the mannequin beside her bed. She carefully, slowly, undressed it, and put the clothes in her school bag: a deerstalker, a duffel coat, black trousers, and a shiny purple button-up shirt. She heaved a sigh as she looked at the contents of her bag, and slung it over her shoulder and went downstairs for breakfast. She turned around to look at her room one last time, to see the purple bed, the posters of Sherlock and Doctor Who, the full yet tidy desk. She heaved a sigh and closed the door, a single tear coursing down her cheek.

Downstairs, she took her time with her breakfast, dreading the moment that she would have to leave. "How long can it take you to eat a piece of toast?" her mother asked incredulously and Becky gave a half-laugh that turned into a hiccup as she tried not to burst into tears. She stood up and gave her mother a long hug, whispering into her ear as she did so, "Whatever happens, I'll always be there. Please believe me that whatever happens today, I'll be fine. I promise you." She stood up and with one last goodbye, stepped out of the house that she had grown up in for the last time.

When she got to school, she could not concentrate at all on her lessons. Her work quality had been decreasing rapidly over the past few months, but today she did nothing. She was handed four detentions from three different teachers, which she accepted as she knew she would never have to attend them. Bella was continually asking her what was wrong, but she refused to answer. Bella secretly resolved to have a serious talk with her at lunchtime.

At the start of lunch, Bella rounded on Becky, and they both spoke at the same time.

"I have something to tell you."

They blinked, surprised that they had spoken together like that. Becky broke the silence first.

"Please, can you do something for me? Can you please round up everybody – all our friends – and meet me at the foot of the tower at one o'clock exactly? It's important."

"Okay, but then I need to have a serious talk with you afterwards."

"Fine." Becky turned away quickly, but Bella could see her gulping back tears.

At one o'clock precisely, Bella had herded up everybody Becky had requested to the foot of the tower. She looked around impatiently for Becky, but could not see her anywhere. Just as she was about to give up and leave, her phone rang. That's funny, I thought I put it on silent, she thought as she dug it out of her pocket. She was surprised to see that Becky was calling her.

"Hello? Becky, where are you?"

The voice that came out of the phone was hoarse. "Look up."

She did so, and gasped. The others heard her, and looked up also, and were shocked speechless by what they saw.

Becky stood at the top of the tower, looking at the heads of the few friends she had. She could see them getting increasingly agitated, waiting for her on the ground below. Bella looked as if she was about to leave and look for her, so Becky decided it was time. She dialled Bella's number. She saw Bella looking confused on the ground as to why her phone was ringing. That's because I turned the sound on, thought Becky slyly.

"Hello? Becky, where are you?"

She had a lump in her throat that she had to swallow before she could talk.

"Look up."

They all obliged, and looked shocked at her standing there, her duffel coat blowing in the wind.

"Becky? Is that you?"

"No, it's Santa Claus."

The sound coming from the phone changed, and Becky assumed that Bella had put her phone onto speaker so that the assembled friends could hear what was going on.

"Becky, Santa Claus does not wear a duffel coat and a deerstalker. Please don't insult out intelligence." Grace, always the voice of reason. Fair enough, thought Becky. "Yes, it's me. Of course it's me."

"What are you doing up there?"

"Three guesses."

"Becky, you can't do this. You have so much future! You were going to…what, be a computer programmer, right? Make games? C'mon, you can still do that!"

Becky felt bad lying to Bella like this. "That was three years ago. See, you're not my friend. I don't have friends. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." She hadn't intended to quote Sherlock there. But it seemed to work, so she decided to run with it.

"But…I thought I was your friend!" Bella's voice was dismayed, betrayed.

"I'm a fake."

"Okay, shut up. Shut. Up." Bella was getting into the spirit of things now, Becky thought macabrely.

"What?"

The first time we met – the first time we met – you showed off your deductions to me, didn't you? You could tell stuff about me. You helped me, using that…that skill of yours. And don't you dare tell me that you researched me, or something ridiculous like that."

"Nobody could be that clever, and still be human. I used you, Bella, I used all of you!" Becky cried, addressing the whole group now. Nobody moved a muscle. All faces were upturned, mouths open. "I have no friends! You were all just too stupid to notice it. And everybody thought I was so wonderful, there was so much stress, so much pressure on me to do well at everything. Well not any more! It ends here. Today. Right now." Becky could see Grace's eyes wandering, looking further down the tower, so she shouted, "Keep your eyes faced on me!" They all jumped and Grace looked back up at her. Right. So now all she needed to do was burn bridges, so she could not come back, and jump so that they would believe it. First thing first.

"Kylee."

Kylee started, surprised at being addressed. "Yeah?"

She took a deep breath. "Just thought you might like to know, everybody here – myself included – thinks you're a bitch and wishes they weren't friends with you."

"What?" She could see the betrayal in Kylee's eyes, even from this distance. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Do you want me to repeat it?"

"No!" Kylee glared around at the group, all of whom had guilty looks on her faces, and then back at Becky. "Well, I hope you do jump then!" She stormed off. The rest of the group looked up at Becky, disapproving looks on their faces. She could tell they hated her now…well most of them, anyway. Great. Now that was done, she had one last bridge left to burn.

"Grace?"

Grace looked apprehensive, wary of answering. "Yes Becky?"

Deep breath. "Just thought you might like to know…I'm a lesbian and I'm in love with you." The words all tumbled out in a rush. Of all the things Becky might have said, she could tell none of them were expecting that. Grace's face looked expressionless. "Well…thanks for letting me know."

"Any time." Now they all hated her, it was time. She was ready physically, but not mentally. No amount of training, not even a month's worth, could possibly prepare someone for their own death.

She sucked in a breath, and took a step closer to the edge of the tower. The group below instinctively stepped forwards also.

"Well, I guess it's time then." How could her voice possibly be so cheery?

"Wait." That came from Bella. "Wait a sec. Why did you phone me like this?"

She gave a half-smile. Time to continue plagiarising Sherlock. "This is my note, John. That is what people do, isn't it? Leave a note? Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."

Becky terminated the call and tossed her phone to the side; she wouldn't be needing that any more. She took another step forward until she was at the very edge of the tall tower, which seemed much taller form this angle. Below, Bella was still talking into her phone, then she too discarded it and yelled upwards with all her might. "BECKY! NO!" Her voice sounded thinner, as if she were shouting into the wind. She ran forwards a few steps, before stopping and staring upwards.

Becky took one last deep breath and leaned forward. She saw she would not land on the ground, but on the balcony halfway down the tower. She closed her eyes, spread her arms, and jumped.

"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."

"Beck-" Bella said into the phone, before realising it was useless and discarding her phone. "BECKY! NO!" she yelled with all her might, trying her best to stop her friend, her one true friend from jumping off that tower. Even from the ground, she could see an expression of calm settle over Becky's face, as if she knew she would to have to worry any longer. She saw Becky lean forward, then fall calmly, gracefully down as if in slow motion. She saw her friend's arms pinwheeling and her legs circling as if she were on a bicycle. Her duffel coat blew open halfway down to reveal a shimmering purple shirt underneath, and black trousers. "BECKY!" she screamed, her voice catching. There was a sickening crunch, audible even from where she was, as her friend hit the balcony part way up the tower. "Becky" she whispered, then she could hear no more. The blood pounded in her ears as she shoved away the rest of the group, and she dashed inside on shaking legs. She ran up the forbidden stairs, ignoring Ms Barker's shouting, pushing students and teachers alike out of her way to the office where she knew the balcony led to. She tried the door, but it was locked, so she pounded at the door until the teacher who owned the office came and unlocked it. She rushed through the small room and practically broke down the door to the balcony, where she saw…a broken girl. Becky, lying there, her head at an odd angle, a pool of blood around her head. She fell to her knees beside the girl and lifted her head, tears falling freely as she saw the blood strewn across the calm face. She took the girl's pulse, but she knew there was no point, no hope. She barely noticed Grace joining her by Becky's body, placing her hand on the shoulder of the grieving girl. She barely noticed anything, she sat there, cradling the girl's head in her lap and weeping until the ambulance came to take her away. She felt numb. She had stopped crying, used up all her tears, some time ago.

Her world had ended.

Becky Lucas was dead.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, there you have it. The heroine, Becky, has died. Or has she? Read on to find out!

I aim to put up the next chapter sometime soon. However, I issue you all with a challenge. I will not put up the chapter until I have at least 2 reviews! A review can be any feedback, even saying that you the hated the story and that it's rubbish – all feedback I greatly appreciated. Thank you!


	5. Memoriam

**A/N:** Welcome to a whole new chapter! This chapter will explore some of the sides of the story we haven't seen so much of yet; and Becky's fate will be revealed. Enjoy!

Thank you to Alice Foxworth for her kind review, more reviews from people are greatly appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** I own much of the plot of this chapter; just not the repeated line, or the cemetery scene at the end.

* * *

_"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

The sentence stuck on Bella's head in the car all the way to the funeral. She wore a plain black top and skirt, and her eyes were red from crying as she stared sullenly out the window, watching the hills roll by. The cheerful sun seemed to be out just to spite her mood.

_"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

Her father, who was driving, had been trying to engage her in some kind of conversation, but had long since given up and was fiddling with the controls on the radio. The bursts of static interspersed with talking and music were starting to get on Bella's nerves, so she leant over and quietly turned the radio off. The rest of the drive was in silence.

_"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

The service was worse than anything Bella could have imagined. The small church it was held in could barely fit the many people who had been invited. Most of Becky's former class were there, along with a couple of teachers. The only person who was missing was Kylee, who had refused to come. Selfish bitch. No one was talking to her any more.

Bella had been going to say a speech, but she found she was unable to speak, so Grace quietly stood up and read it for her. As Bella sat down, she made herself look at the thing she had been trying to avoid – the coffin. It was a simple wooden box, decorated with various flowers brought by various people at the funeral. The only type of flower there that Becky had actually liked was the roses, in gentle shades of pink and yellow. Bella looked above the coffin, and gave a start as she realised there was someone standing behind it, wearing a long black robe with a peaked hood. She watched the person for the rest of the ceremony, but they did not move until the end, when they followed the coffin out silently. She could see that they were supposed to be the Grim Reaper, but what kind of a sick joke was that? Bella found herself feeling angry, the first real emotion she had had for a long time.

_"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

o0o0o

School was even worse, with everybody talking about the strange girl who had jumped off the tower like Sherlock Holmes had done. Some said she was crazy, others said she was stressed. Nobody who had been party to the phone call had told anyone about what Becky had said that day, but that didn't stop the rumours flowing think and fast.

The Monday after the…fall, the teachers all wore black to school. The entire school was summoned to the hall for an assembly, which turned out to be to honour Becky. The principal said a few words about how Becky had been a hardworking student, a real asset to the school. She then seemed at a loss, having not known Becky, so she passed over to Ms Barker; who started talking about how Becky had been "a diligent student who showed real promise". That's not what you were saying a few weeks ago, Bella thought scornfully.

The teachers seemed to be at a loss, with nothing else kind to say about Becky, and so were glancing around the room helplessly. Bella felt a strange feeling overcome her, and she cleared her throat and raised her hand. Whispers broke out around the all – this _never_ happened, no one _ever_ spoke in assembly.

"Yes, Miss...?" Ms Barker inquired coldly.

"Adams, miss. Bella Adams. I was wondering if I could please say a few words about Becky?"

Ms Barker gave a curt nod, and Bella made her way up to the stage, feeling the eyes of everyone in the hall on her back. She took the microphone and stood there for a second, wondering what she was going to say. She cleared her throat, and jumped slightly when the sound boomed out from the massive speakers, reverberating around the room. She closed her eyes, let her heart take over from her brain and started speaking.

"Becky Lucas was an amazing girl. Many people thought she was a creep, or rude; but that was just who she was. She had a phenomenal brain, she could tell anything about someone just by looking at them, taking bits of their appearance and translating that into their personality. I don't know how she did this, but it was an amazing talent. She was never fully recognised for this.

"It seemed sometimes that that was all she was – a smart kid who read people. But underneath, she was kind-hearted, caring, and fiercely loyal. She once decked a guy who tried to chat me up on the street, just because she knew I didn't like him. Sure, she was good at academic things, but that's not who Becky Lucas was. The real Becky Lucas – the one I knew – was much, much more than that.

"Please don't judge Becky on her last actions, her…fall. Remember Becky Lucas as the kind, caring girl who would do anything for anyone in need. Remember her as the best person you could ever meet. Remember her as she was.

"Thank you."

Her impromptu speech was met by silence for a few seconds. Then someone at the back started to slowly clap. Another person picked up the clapping, then another, then another, until the whole room rang with enthusiastic clapping from every angle. Bella could feel herself going red, so she made her way down to her seat. She was greeted with hi-fives from several girls, and Grace gave her a gentle squeeze as she sat down.

"Well done." she whispered. "That took real courage."

"I wanted people to know who Becky was. All that rubbish the teachers were saying…that wasn't Becky, was it? That wasn't the girl we knew." Bella muttered back, and Grace nodded fervently in agreement.

Ms Barker called for attention as the clapping subsided. "On that note, I think we can all go to lunch. If you could start leading the girls out, Mr Brennan?" As the hall filled with the scraping of chairs, she added, "And could Bella Adams please meet me in my office at one o-clock. Thank you."

o0o0o

Bella sat down uncomfortably in Ms Barker's office, looking around at the many pictures of cats and dogs around the walls.

"So you like my collection then." Bella jumped; she hadn't heard Ms Barker come in. "Calm down, dear, I won't bite. I just wanted to congratulate you on your speech in assembly today. I gather from what your teachers have said that you aren't too fond of public speaking, but you stood up today, in front of the whole school, and gave a speech. How did you do it?"

"Well, miss, I sort of made it up as I went along. You see, I wanted people to know who the real Becky Lucas was, not the brainiac you read about in the school exam results."

"All right then. Just one more thing…" Ms Barker bent over her desk as if telling Bella a secret, making full eye contact. "This is important. Did you know – hear or see – anything suspicious about Rebecca? Anything about her that you didn't say in your speech for instance? Anything to mark her as…different?"

"No, miss." It was all Bella could say; she was thoroughly confused by the question. Ms Barker gave a resigned sigh. "Thank you Bella, you can go now."

Bella slipped out of the office to find Grace standing there, waiting for her. Bella could only think about how she had been there, only a few weeks ago, waiting for Becky herself to come out of the office. So much had changed since then. Becky would never come out of that office again, or any office for that matter. Becky was gone, and she was never coming back.

_"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

Grace could see the tears in Bella's eyes, but didn't say anything, waiting for Bella to say for herself. When Bella did tell her how she was feeling, sitting on a bench in the playground; it all came out in a rush, accompanied by fresh tears and sobbing. Grace was silent through this, patting Bella's arm for encouragement. When Bella finished, Grace hugged her and they stood up, Bella wiping away her tears. She was ready to face the world.

o0o0o

Bella stood at the foot of the grave, staring at the fresh mound of dirt as if she expected Becky to rise out of it, smiling in her bubbly way. Nothing happened, so she cleared her throat and walked to the grave stone, touching it as she spoke to Becky.

"Becky, I-I miss you. Simple as that. I miss the way you would brighten up the days for me, cheer me up when I was down. I miss the way you would tell me what was happening in the lives of others, you knew a stranger's whole life story just by looking at them. I even miss your obsession with Sherlock Holmes. That duffel coat – I never realised how much it meant to you, until I saw you wearing it, that day. Apparently you're wearing that outfit now, aren't you? That coat and deerstalker and purple shirt of sex? Okay, that sounded wrong in a graveyard, didn't it? But you know what I mean.

"Becky, I also want you to know that, well, people at school were saying things about you - things that I know aren't true. I set them straight, though, don't worry. Think of it as repayment of a favour, from that time you decked that creep for me. And Becky, wherever you are, whatever you are doing; know that I believe in you. You were my best friend, and I'll always believe in you. No matter what people say, no matter what happens, you were the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you.

"And Becky, not wanting to sound clichéd but, could you do one last thing for me? One last favour? Could you, could you not be…dead? Please? I know it's impossible, but you could do anything, even the impossible. So please, don't be dead.

"Goodbye, Becky."

Bella choked back a sob and turned away from the grave, and started walking slowly to where Grace waited at the entrance to the graveyard.

_"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

o0o0o

An unseen pair of green eyes watched the two girls as they left the graveyard, pausing at the gate to look back at the stone one last time. When the girls were out of sight, the owner of the eyes took a deep breath and started walking away.

Becky Lucas had things to do.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, well, well! Becky is alive, after all…but how did she do it? How did she manage to fool everyone? Read on to find out!

Reviews are awesome, by the way (hint, hint).


	6. Revelations

**A/N:** Welcome back, everybody. This will be quite a long chapter, as a lot will happen in it. More on Bella and Becky. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** tell you what, let's play a game. It's called, Spot the Things in This Story That I _Don't_ Own. It's really quite easy. There are several things from BBC Sherlock, and something from The Simpsons and from Doctor Who. It's not a crossover; just little quotes, sayings, here and there.

* * *

Two days after Bella went to the graveyard to see Becky's grave, she got a call from the police officer who had been investigating Becky's death. He told her to meet him at the school. When she got there, he met her at the bottom of the tower, and they walked up together.

Bella found it hard to ascend the steps. She could not help thinking that what she was seeing at that moment, would have been one of the last things Becky ever saw. They went past the teacher's office, the balcony of which Becky landed on. Bella could not look at that door; it was a part of her nightmares now. As they started up the narrow steps to the top, Bella felt an overwhelming sense of nausea, and had to sit down. The dark walls were making her feel claustrophobic, and when she got up to the top she took a big breath of fresh air. Looking around, she marvelled at the amazing views from the vantage point. At least she had some nice scenery to end on, Bella thought sadly.

The police officer – Detective Inspector G. Proops – cleared his throat, and pointed her towards a mannequin lying there, with some police tape around it. As if anyone ever comes up here, thought Bella scornfully as she stepped closer to the tape; then she stopped dead when she saw it more clearly. The dummy was dressed in a plain black jacket and pants, with a white shirt and dark tie. Its hand was pulled up towards its mouth, as if placing something inside the mouth; and in that hand was a gun, a small pistol. The dummy was evidently supposed to be Moriarty, left there by Becky as a last joke. But why? Proops handed her a piece of paper. "We found this in the dummy's top pocket," he said, watching carefully for her reaction. The note was addressed to her, and she unfolded it slowly, her heart in her mouth. On the note was a single line, in Becky's small, careful handwriting.

'It's a trick, it's all a magic trick.'

A single tear coursed down Bella's face as she read her friend's last note, her last legacy to the world.

o0o0o

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned back into days. Bella was slowly falling into a pit of despair, bit by bit by bit. After she had found the note, she felt as if her friend had ripped a hole in her, taking her heart away. She had been so hopeful when she opened the note. It might have said…well, anything, anything else that would have made her feel better. What did it mean? Becky had taken a single line from BBC Sherlock, and had written it down as a lasting legacy. But why? What did it mean? Nothing, obviously; it was Becky having a last laugh at them all. A gimmick, as was the dummy. Becky had even taken her suicide from the show. Months ago, Bella had been sad; but now she was just angry. The person she had thought was her friend had left her, taken herself out of her life, and left Bella with a gaping hole and nothing to fill it with. Bella had been so depressed, she had wasted so many tears over Becky; and now she realised that it was all a waste, all of it. Bella's marks had started to decline, much like Becky's had; and now it was Grace waiting for Bella outside Ms Barker's office.

Becky had gone, and she wasn't ever coming back. The sooner Bella accepted this, and moved on with her life, the better for everyone. But she could not. Becky had harmed her irreparably, and there was no fixing her now. Lately, Bella had been thinking about ending it all, like Becky had. But not the same way Becky had; that was too showy, too extravagant. Too harmful. Bella wasn't going to harm anyone, now she knew how it felt.

o0o0o

It was a Friday that it happened. Bella was meditating in the park, something she had been doing recently, to help relieve the pain some. She had been sitting there, thinking about life. There was no one else in the park; it was deserted, there was never anyone there on a Friday night. Bella liked it that way. It was peaceful.

She stood up to go, fully calm, and felt a prickle on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. She started to turn around, but before she could she found herself suddenly in a headlock, a hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to struggle, but the person holding her was surprisingly strong. She gave up and went limp, putting all her weight on the person; but that didn't work either. A croaky voice whispered into her ear.

"Hello, Bella."

She froze. How did the person know her name?

"I hope you don't mind me dropping in on you like this. I just wanted to have a chat about a mutual friend of ours. Rebecca Lucas."

Bella's mind was turning over as fast as it could. Who was this person? How did they know about her? How did they know about Becky? Before she could move, the voice spoke again.

"I'll be catching up with you sometime soon, I expect. Do me a favour – try and stay alive before then, would you?" There was a rustling behind her, and the person behind her disappeared. She fell over, and got up and turned around as quickly as she could – but there was no one there. She stood still for a minute, then shook her head and headed home, thinking about the bizarre experience she had just had.

o0o0o

There was a knock on the door of the office. "Come in," called a kindly voice, and Sherlock stepped into the room. "Have a seat, would you, dear" Mrs Hudson said, not taking her eyes off the computer screen. She clicked on something, then closed the laptop and turned around, giving Sherlock her full attention. "Well, what can I do you for?"

"Stage one, contact, has been completed." Sherlock said in a toneless voice, her eyes downcast.

"Did she recognise you?"

"I don't think so."

Mrs Hudson had been with the government for longer than she would like to admit, and she knew when there was something wrong with someone. "What else?"

"It's just…" Sherlock looked up at her, her eyes filled with pain. "Bella. She's…she's not good. Depressed actually. Serious, I'd say. She never really got over the loss of her friend, and she has been contemplating suicide for a couple of weeks."

"Oh, dear."

"I can't believe I didn't realise this would happen. I can't believe she would feel the loss so badly. She thinks her friend abandoned her…she thinks I abandoned her. And I did. I abandoned my friend. Have you ever done this, Mrs Hudson? Have you ever left someone for the sake of your own safety?" Sherlock stood up and started pacing. "Do you know what it feels like, to have someone with so much faith in you, and then to let them down? No, you don't, do you? You've never had anything close to this. I know you're always saying, caring is not an advantage, and that we should detach ourselves from our environments, emotionally. But I can't! And neither could you, if you had real friends like this! You don't know what it's like! You're nothing but a heartless witch!" Sherlock flopped back down into the chair and started weeping. Her throat was sore; she hadn't realised she had been shouting.

Mrs Hudson looked at Sherlock for a long time. "I understand some of what you're feeling. I am prepared to ignore the fact that you insulted me, when you know as well as I that such an action should be punished. However, I will tell you one thing." She paused a moment, looking over the tops of her glasses at Sherlock as if she could see right inside her. "I have a heart. But I do not let it rule my brain. There was a time, before you were even born, that I did let my heart rule me, and it cost the life of my two boys." Sherlock gasped, but Mrs Hudson continued, "That day, I made myself a promise. Once and for all, I would detach myself from my emotions, so that nothing could hurt me again. But I have never truly got over that loss. I do have a heart, but I am not my heart."

Sherlock sat there, truly humbled. Much quieter, she said, "I'm sorry." She practically ran out of the room, covering her face. Mrs Hudson sighed and turned back to the screen.

Mycroft, who had heard the noise from his office over the hallway, popped his head in. "Is everything all right? I thought I heard…"

"It was Sherlock. She's…she's taking her friend's predicament badly. I thought…I thought she might be good enough to be able to do this, but she's not. I think we should cancel the meeting."

"We can't do that! It's important that Bella knows what happened."

"And what did happen? A mysterious person says boo, we all jump."

"There was a reason, you know that as well as anybody."

"Beside the point. Sherlock isn't hard enough to do this. We are cancelling it."

"Oh no, we're not." Mycroft stood over Mrs Hudson's desk now, tall and imposing. "We are not giving up on this operation, which our agents have worked on for so long, because you think an agent 'isn't hard enough' to do it. Can't you see, she wants to be able to see her friend again? And not just from a distance, being the stranger in the street, the passenger on the bus, the person in the queue. She wants to have friends again! You know as well as I that the only people here for her to make friend with are you, myself, and Watson. She's a kid, she needs friends. Even Watson still has friends. You and I have friends. The poor kid is missing out. And we are going through with the operation, Mrs Hudson, whether you like it or not."

Mrs Hudson huffed for a while. It was clear she did not like the idea. However, after a minute or so, she looked up at Mycroft, and gave a small, resigned smile. "Okay then," she said.

o0o0o

Two weeks after the strange park experience, Bella went for a walk down the bustling city street. She pushed her way through the crowds of people, her breath mingling in the air with that of a hundred or so strangers on the road. The buses, taxis and cars roared past, the exhaust fumes making Bella's nose screw up in distaste. There was a rumble of thunder, then a few spots of rain; then the heavens opened and there was a downpour, making the people on the footpath hurry all the more. Bella turned a corner and found herself on a less crowded street. She walked a little way, then found she was the only person left on the street. A cab pulled up next to her.

"Would you like a ride, dear?"

"No, I don't have any money sorry." She kept walking, but the cab moved with her.

"For you, no charge." Bella recognised the croaky voice suddenly, and whirled around to face the cab driver. She saw a brunette with a large nose, who looked about her age, in the driver's seat, calmly holding a gun on her. "Get in," the girl snarled, all polite pretences dropped. Bella glanced up and down the street, and silently got into the back of the car. The pistol followed her.

"Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare." The girl started driving, and the windows in the back, as well as the screen between driver and passenger, blacked out suddenly. Bella could see nothing, but there was a speaking-hole in the screen, so she could communicate with the girl. She decided to try a trick from The Doctor – talk inanely whilst thinking of a plan.

"Wow, how did you do that? Is it something to do with the power of the engine…"

The girl cut her off mid-sentence. "Less talky, more scaredy."

"Scaredy? That's not even…"

"You really don't want to piss off a girl with a gun, do you now?"

"But where are you taking me?"

"A place. A place in this country. Now please don't talk any more, I'm trying to concentrate."

They drove for a while in silence. Bella had tried every escape route she could think of, and nothing brilliant came to mind. The only further conversation had been when she tried to open the door, and the girl said, "Kiddie locks." Bella could see nothing, and could not work out where they were.

After what seemed like an eternity, the car stopped, and Bella could hear the driver's door open. She got ready to spring. However, her door opened suddenly, and a light shone in so bright that Bella was blinded for a few seconds. She opened her eyes to find the girl had the gun trained on her steadily. She had lost the element of surprise, and her only option was to leave the car, the pistol following her every move. She found herself in a large, abandoned warehouse, empty save the car and two chairs. She was pointed towards one of them, and sat down, keeping an eye on the pistol. The strange girl sat down facing Bella.

"Bella, I know you do not know who I am, but this is important, what I have to tell you. Possibly the most important thing you will ever have to hear in your whole life. Please listen, and believe me when I say that your friend, Becky Lucas, is very much alive."

Bella's eyes went wide, and she rocked backwards slightly. "Who are you? How do you know this? What makes you say that?" Her voice was shaking, incredulous.

"My identity is unimportant…for the moment. Becky Lucas is alive, and is in grave danger. Can you please help me save her?"

"What?" Bella couldn't believe what this strange girl was asking. Help a girl who abandoned her, with no warning, no proper goodbye? Who did this girl think she was, to burst in on Bella's life like this and start making demands?

"You heard what I said." The girl looked down, then back up at Bella. "I know what you're thinking. I can read it in your face. You don't think you should trust me; you don't know who I am, what my connection with Becky is, or even if I'm telling the truth or not. I can tell you this; I have known Becky since a very young age. We…grew up together. We confided in each other, and knew all of each other's secrets.

"The next thing I am about to say may be surprising, even a little hard to believe. Becky Lucas was part of a covert, governmentally-run espionage organisation - basically, a top-secret spy agency," she added, seeing the confused look on Bella's face. "Becky received some threatening notes several months ago, saying that her friends and family would be hurt if she did not disappear. You may remember several 'accidents' around the time?" Bella nodded. "Those were no accidents. They were deliberate. In the end, Becky had to jump off that tower, to save herself and her nearest and dearest – including you and me, I might add. Becky couldn't tell anyone the truth because if she did, they'd be sure to die next. She faked her death to save us, and now she needs our help to save her. Will you do that for her?"

Bella's face evidently echoed her confused thoughts, because the girl spoke again. "I know it's hard, but you have to trust me. Please?"

"How do I know I can, though? And don't just pull the gun out on me, that's getting old now."

"It's not a gun." The girl pointed it at Bella, pulled the trigger…and a flame leaped out the end of the gun.

"A cigarette lighter? Now that really is old."

"Well, maybe it is. But it had you fooled, didn't it?"

"So, I could leave right now, and you couldn't stop me."

"Well…yes. But I wouldn't advise it. This warehouse is surrounded by acres and acres of farmland and crops, and you would have to walk for at least a day before you would get anywhere, if you went in the right direction. I, however, have a car than can get you out in a fraction of the time, if you agree to help."

Bella slumped in her chair. This girl had her, all right. The only way to get out was to agree to help Becky. But was Becky even alive? How could Bella possibly know for certain? Bella had seen her friend, lying there, broken. Had tried to take her pulse, but there was none. Bella was certain that Becky was dead. Or was she?

Her head was full of questions for this strange girl, but in the end she spoke only one, the most important one.

"Prove it."

The girl sighed, and stood up. She lifted her hand to her head and ran her fingers through her hair – no, wait, _under_ her hair. How was that possible? Before Bella could move, the girl yanked her hand away from her head – taking the hair with it. The short brown wig fell to the ground, and long, blonde locks fell down in their place. Bella gaped at the girl, but before she could say anything, the girl reached up to her nose, and pulled that off carefully, along with a pair of false eyebrows. Bella gasped, and stood up quickly, knocking her chair over as she did so.

Standing there, in front of her, was Becky Lucas.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you liked that chapter. Sorry it was quite long, but I just kept writing. The next chapter should be up soon.

Today is International Review Day, by the way (and by today I mean whatever day you are reading this).


	7. Explanations

**A/N:**Welcome back to the story! Becky Lucas is alive, but how will Bella react? And just who is Becky Lucas, anyway?

**Disclaimer:** Sherlock is awesome, but I do not own it; nor do I own Doctor Who, from which there are some references.

* * *

_Standing there, in front of her, was Becky Lucas._

"What- How- Why- What?"

That was all Bella could manage to stammer out. Becky gave a shy half-smile.

"It's me. I'm real." The croaky voice was gone, and she sounded like Becky again.

"But…how? Why? But you're _dead_!" She saw Becky flinch at the word, and she felt strangely pleased. "You were dead, I saw you, I…" Bella was lost for words, so she stepped forward and slapped Becky's face. Becky flinched again, but made no move to defend herself.

"I probably deserved that."

"You bet you did!"

"I'm sorry, Bella."

"I'm sorry, Bella really I am. For everything. I didn't…I didn't realise that my leaving would have such a big effect on you. I'm sorry, I should have realised, I was stupid, I'm sorry…" Becky's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"That's it, is it? "You're sorry? Months and months of grief, and _you're sorry?_"

"I can explain, I promise."

"Oh, I don't think you can."

"I already gave you a reason…"

"Oh, you call that a reason? That cock-and-bull story you gave me about the government? Do you really…" Bella was cut off by a sudden burst of gunfire over her head.

"Get down!" Becky yelled, and because it seemed like the best option, Bella complied. "Get in the car!"

"No! Not until you tell me why you pretended to kill yourself."

"Oh, for the love of…fine! Here you go!" Becky yanked something out of her pocket and handed it to Bella, then ran over to the car, bent over. Bella followed her, and dived in the back as some more bullets whistled past. Becky floored the accelerator and they were off.

The windows didn't black out this time, and Bella could see that Becky had been telling the truth about their location. She barely managed to get her seatbelt on as they whizzed around a sharp turn, wheels skidding in what she could now see was the muddy ground they were driving on. She looked behind, and saw a green Jeep following them, the off-road vehicle easily keeping pace with the taxicab they were in. As she watched, the passenger window wound down as they went around a corner, and an arm holding a pistol reached out and pointed at the tyres of the taxi. She shouted out a warning to Becky, and Becky abruptly turned the car into a row of bushes. The Jeep roared past, and Becky turned around and drove back the other way.

After ten minutes or so of cross-country driving, Bella remembered the object she was clutching in her fist. She peeled her hand away from it, and saw what looked like a credit card, with a magnetic strip and a fancy crest as a watermark underneath a photo of Becky. She turned it over, and saw the word 'Sherlock' written in large letters, with 'Rebecca Lucas' written underneath in such small lettering that Bella had to squint to see it.

"What's this?" She looked up to see Becky watching her in the mirror. "What's this card?"

"My identification card."

"Who's Sherlock?"

"Me. It's my code name. And you're going to be John."

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm not actually a guy…"

"And neither am I. Gender confusion – throws people off the scent."

"So it's real then. People are chasing you. And…" Bella went cold. "And they were going to kill you? And…and us? Me?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put you on so much danger…"

"No, no, it's I don't mean that. I mean…you were willing to kill yourself, give up your life like that, for everybody else? That…that's amazing! That's the most selfless thing I've ever heard of someone doing. Well…almost."

Becky rolled her eyes at Bella in the mirror, but could not help smiling, just slightly.

o0o0o

A while later, Bella spoke. "So?"

"So what?"

"Are you going to tell me what happened? How you did it? How you died? Because I was there, I saw you, I took your pulse and everything – you were dead, to all intents and purposes."

Becky took a deep breath, and started to talk. She remembered it all, as clearly as if it were yesterday…

_"Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

_Becky took one last deep breath and leaned forward. She saw she would not land on the ground, but on the balcony halfway down the tower. She closed her eyes, spread her arms, and jumped._

_She was free-falling through the air, the wind pulling at her hair and blowing her coat open. Her arms were pinwheeling, her legs kicking uselessly as she fell – she couldn't stop them. Her brain dimly registered screaming from below, but she blocked that out easily._

_The fall seemed to last for an eternity, and she was about to open her eyes when she heard the faint high-pitched sound that meant she had passed the sensors they had installed on the side of the tower. The sensor emitted a high-pitched sound when she passed a certain point, so she knew to ready herself for impact. She relaxed, curved her body into a u-shape, and tensed her knees for impact. The crash-mat flexed as she crashed onto it, breaking her fall. The stitches creaked and a couple burst open, but that was all right, because she was stopped now, it was over. Stage One of Operation: Goodbye was complete._

"Operation Goodbye? Nice name," commented Bella with a smirk.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Bella. May I continue?"

"Sure."

_Now onto Stage Two. The window squeaked open quietly behind her, and she lifted her head to see Watson looking at her anxiously. His face jolted her back to reality…_

"Wait. Watson?"

"Long story, more on that later."

_His face jolted her back to reality, and she sat up as quickly as she could, moving gingerly. She quickly assessed herself; back slightly sore, jolted upon landing, nothing she couldn't deal with. Otherwise fine. She stood up, keeping low so as not to be seen by the people on the ground below, and helped Watson in pulling back the false floor. The crash mat was pushed underneath, and the floor pushed over as if nothing had happened. They both heard thumping on the door of the office._

_Watson pulled the vial out of his pocket. "You ready?"_

_"As ready as I'll ever be."_

"Clichéd much?"

"Oh, shut up. I was stressed!"

"What exactly was in the vial?"

"A special drug, used to slow the heart rate and breathing of a person dramatically. Much like the one in Romeo and Juliet, actually. Scientists have been developing it, and I was one of the guinea pigs."

"What happened next then?"

_"As ready as I'll ever be."_

_She uncorked the vial and tipped it up, gulping it own quickly before she could chicken out. She then lay down on the ground, and Watson arranged her arms and legs to look like she'd fallen. He opened the bottle of fake blood and used it liberally, on Becky's face, her hair, her clothes; and a little pool of it on the ground by her ear. He stood back and admired his work, and his heart caught in his throat. His Sherlock was…broken. There was no other word for it. Broken. And dead, too. That was very not good._

_He heard the lock turning in the door, and barely managed to get into the cupboard before the door opened. He could hear someone running across the room, pulling the doors to outside open…and then an uncontrollable screaming and sobbing that broke his heart. Sherlock had said that no one cared about her. She had been wrong. This person did._

"This Watson seems to talk about you quite affectionately. Is there something between you?" Bella asked jokingly. She was surprised when Becky replied with a matter-of-fact "Yes."

"But I thought you said…"

"That I was gay? Oh, no. Just something to throw you off the scent, to confuse you. Burning bridges, you know. Anyway, I'm not finished yet."

"The humblest of apologies. Please do continue."

"Thank you, John." She laughed at Bella's scowl.

_A few minutes later, the van came screaming up to the school, and Becky was carefully placed inside. Watson sneaked inside, dressed as one of the crew, and sat in the back, watching the only girl he had ever cared about lying there, in a half-coma, for all intents and purposes dead._

_When they had got a little way out of the city, they all switched to a campervan, and drove onto headquarters._

"And that's all I'm allowed to tell you," Becky finished with a little bow.

"So…you're Sherlock now? Can I call you Becky, or what should I call you?"

"Sherlock, please. And I should call you John, really. I don't even know Watson's real name, and he only knows mine because I had to fake my death."

"Will I get to meet him?"

"No doubt, in about 30 minutes I'd estimate."

"What? Where is he?"

"Right here." Becky – no, Sherlock – pulled up in front on what looked like an abandoned wool factory.

"What's that?"

"An abandoned wool factory." Bella - John! - rolled her eyes at this. "What's inside then?"

"My life, right now."

They entered the building through a small corrugated iron door, and Bella was surprised to find herself in a white, well-lit hallway. John – boy, this was weird, calling herself John – wandered uncertainly down the hallway, glancing in the open doors as she passed them. There were a couple of ordinary-looking offices, a locker room, a bathroom, a gym, and…

"You probably shouldn't look in there," said Sherlock, steering her past the second-to-last door hurriedly. "I don't know why they left it open." She reached forward and opened the door at the end of the corridor, and inside John could see a comfy room, with two sofas and a TV on the wall. Sherlock brushed past John on her way into the room, and sat down on one of the sofas, indicating that John should sit on the other. John closed the door and sat down awkwardly, staring at Sherlock. She still couldn't quite believe that she was alive, let alone sitting there in front of her.

"Go on then, I can tell you're dying to ask some questions," Sherlock eventually remarked with a small smile.

John tried to sort it all out in her head. "First off, how did you do it? I know how you stopped breathing, but how did you stop your pulse and heartbeat?" she said eventually.

"I didn't stop them, merely covered them up. I was wearing a bullet-proof vest underneath the 'Purple Shirt of Sex'," (John stifled a giggle at this), "and the pulse on my wrist and throat were covered up by modified invisible surgical plasters, designed to blend into any skin colour. I was a guinea pig for those as well."

"So, you guessed that someone was going to take your pulse, even though you'd just jumped off a very high tower, and had a very slim chance of being alive?"

"A wise move, as it turned out."

"And you did it all because of some anonymous notes?"

"Yup." Sherlock popped the 'p'.

There was a pause, then John spoke again. "What have you been doing all this time, all these months?"

"I was mostly working on intelligence, but I did other things as well. I got a job, and earned some money that way. It all goes to the agency, though."

John sensed there was something she wasn't saying, and stared at Sherlock with a questioning expression. Eventually Sherlock sighed. "Fine. You remember what I said before, about wanting to see all of you? Well, I was doing that. Not stalking, just…making sure you were all right. Remember that redhead that stopped you stepping I front of a bus?"

John gasped. "That was you?"

"That was the closest I'd ever physically got to any of you."

"But that was a redhead. You're blonde."

"I normally dye my hair red, it's a good disguise. I died it back so you would recognise me, but I'll change it back tomorrow. I'm only a brunette when I'm kidnapping people," Sherlock finished with a cheeky grin.

John thought for a moment, then spoke. "You know, you saved my life twice."

"How so?" Sherlock's voice was careful, cautious.

"You stopped me walking in front of a bus. I would have died then."

"And the other time?"

"The time you grabbed me in the park – that was you, right?" Sherlock nodded, and John continued. "That day, I…I was planning how to end it all. Like I thought you had done." Sherlock covered her mouth, then motioned for John to keep talking. "I was going to walk down to the lake, and take a weight with me, and then…you know what I mean. I was going to go quietly though, so as not to hurt anyone.

"But then, this person grabbed me and started talking to me, and gave me new hope. This person might have known something about Becky Lucas, and I needed to know everything I could. So really you saved me twice. Thank you."

"But why? I mean, I know why you did it but…why that way? Why did you jump off the tower? Moreover, why did you invite us all to see your death? That's one of the most morbid things I've ever heard of, inviting one's friends to one's death. And you're not a Time Lord, so that's not an excuse. Also, what about that mannequin? What was the deal with that?"

Sherlock smiled thinly at the half-hearted joke. "Why did I plagiarise BBC Sherlock, you mean? I guess, because…I was vain. Even in my last moments, or what would seem to the world like my last moments, I wanted to go out with a bang. I wanted to be remembered. What I didn't realise, was that it wasn't actually me, the person they remembered. It wasn't the real me, it was the public façade. That day, Becky Lucas died forever, and she's never coming back. Now, I am Sherlock, secret agent for the government. I am never going back to that life. Becky is gone.

"On a side note, I gather you made a speech about me at my memorial assembly. I wanted to say…thank you for that." Sherlock sounded genuinely choked up. She took a few seconds to regain her composure, then continued. "The mannequin was a half-hearted attempt at giving you a hint that I wasn't actually dead. The quote was from the show, yes; but I was trying to tell you that everything I told you, everything you had seen me do that day; was all an illusion, a magic trick. Magicians these days call themselves illusionists. That's what I am too, an illusionist. I created the illusion that I had died, and you all believed it.

"As to why I invited you all, it was simple. I wanted to see you all, together one last time, albeit from a distance. A certain Time Lord once said, 'If it's time to go, remember what you're leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.' My friends have always been the best of me, too. I wanted to see you standing there, together as one, as you always have been. I was always the outsider, and that was okay, because I liked seeing the lot of you together. And I wanted to look at you all again, from the outside. That's why."

There was a minute or so of silence as John digested this information. Sherlock did have a heart, after all. She thought for a while, then shook her head. "No more questions."

'Okay then, would you like to meet Watson now?"

"Okay, where is he?"

"Listening at the door. Come in!" she added, raising her voice slightly at the last two words.

The door opened and a boy of about their age stepped into the room. He ad pale skin, dark eyes, and dark curly hair. His demeanour was that of a person who can easily be invisible in a crowd; and his eyes were watchful, flickering around the room and up and down John. She felt almost uncomfortable under his careful scrutiny; but after a minute or so his face relaxed into a wide smile. He grinned at John, then looked past her and his eyes lit up as he saw Sherlock. John turned around and saw that Sherlock's face mirrored the boy's. They stared at each other, until John coughed and they both looked away quickly, embarrassed. John smiled a knowing smile. These two obviously liked each other, and they were so cute together. The boy, Watson, walked over to Sherlock, and they stood together, looking at John.

"So this is the girl I've been hearing so much about," Watson said in a crisp, clear voice. "John is it?"

"Yes, and you're Watson, I'd presume," John replied, holding out her hand for Watson to shake. An old-fashioned gesture, but he took it in his stride, even bending down to kiss her hand. He looked up at her cheekily, and all three of them burst out laughing. Oh, they were going to get along fine.

o0o0o

An hour later, the three of them sat on the couches, staring at the television. They had fetched some blankets and pillows for the room, and it no longer seemed so clinical. It was quite cosy, in fact.

Sherlock got up and started flipping through the DVDs in the cabinet underneath the television. She suddenly stopped at a box set, but John couldn't see what it was. "Perfect," Sherlock said, and inserted the DVD into the player. She sat back on the couch she was sharing with Watson, and turned the TV on.

A familiar London cityscape came up on the screen, accompanied by some music that made John's stomach twist uncomfortably. Oblivious, Sherlock selected the first episode, and 'A Study in Pink' began to play on screen. John sat upright, breathing shallowly, trying to control the nausea she suddenly felt. The video stopped, and she looked over to see Sherlock and Watson staring at her. In answer to their questioning looks, she said, "Sorry. I just…find this difficult, hearing that music and seeing that show, ever since…" There was no need to explain; they both understood immediately. Sherlock quietly stood up and went over to John's couch, and put her arm around her shoulders and held her until John's breathing slowed and she relaxed. She nodded at Sherlock, and the episode started again.

The three of them sat companionably on the couches, watching Sherlock uncover mysteries, be threatened by a cab driver, find a hairpin, stop bombings, shoot at a wall, meet a dominatrix, uncover a 'hound', and jump off a rooftop; all the time strutting around and insulting people. John's pulse quickened slightly at the last few scenes of the series, but she forced herself to stay calm and relaxed. As the marathon finished, John was lying on her couch covered by a blanket, staring up at the television on the wall. Sherlock was snuggled into Watson on the other couch. There was an air of comfort and homeliness in the room, and all were content.

John suddenly remembered where she was, and jumped up, scattering the cushions on her couch. "Shit!" she yelled, then covered her mouth. "Sorry," she whispered, "but I just realised – my mum doesn't know where I am! She's gonna be freaking out now, she's gonna kill me, she…" She trailed off when she saw Sherlock and Watson staring at her, trying hard not to laugh. "What?" she asked suspiciously.

"We, ah, took the liberty of contacting your mother earlier. She thinks you're staying over at Grace's house. She seemed quite pleased actually, that you are getting out with your friends."

"When, and how, did you do that?"

"Just after we arrived, I sent her a text from this." Sherlock held John's phone in the air.

John clapped her hand to her pocket, then glared at Sherlock. "Some warning might have been nice," she commented. "Like, maybe a friendly, hey John, I'm going to take your phone now."

"You never seemed bothered until now."

John could not think of what else to say, so she sighed and sat down heavily. Sherlock and Watson smirked, and eventually John saw the funny side and joined in. It was the best she'd felt…well, since Becky Lucas had jumped from the tower.

* * *

**A/N:** There you go, a nice note to end on. The next chapter will be up sometime in the next week or so, but some time before that you might get a note from me.

Thank you for reading, please use that little white box down the bottom of your screen to review this story now! I would like to thank Alice Foxworth for her kind reviews so far.


	8. Baker Street

**A/N:** Now back to the story!

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Sherlock; however I do on the basic plot of this story.

* * *

The next morning, John woke up on the couch and stretched. It had been surprisingly comfortable to sleep on. She remembered where she was and sat upright, looking over at Sherlock and Watson. Her head was buried in his chest, and his arms were around her. They really are a cute couple, John thought; and she stood up, the blanket falling away from her. Hesitantly, unwilling to wake them but not sure what to do, she whispered, "Becky – I mean, Sherlock?"

Sherlock murmured and opened her eyes slowly, lifting her head from her boyfriend's chest as she looked over at John. "Mm?"

"What do I do? I don't know this place."

In response, Sherlock rolled over and shoved Watson off the couch onto the floor. He woke with a start as he landed on the floor, and jumped up straight away. He shook his head, smoothed his shirt, and headed out the door, Sherlock following. She winked at John, and John shook her head and followed the two of them. They went down the corridor a ways, then went through one of the closed doors they had passed the day before. There was a sharp turn, then a steep, narrow flight of stairs. The tall warehouse they were in was evidently split into two or three storeys inside, or perhaps more. On the second level, they passed some more doors, and then turned left into a large room with several round tables, each surrounded by three or four chairs. About half of the tables were filled with people around their age and older, all happy and chattering loudly.

Sherlock and Watson strode off to a table on the far side if the room, and John had no choice but to follow them. A couple of people broke off their conversations and stared at John as she went past, and she gave them an awkward wave; but most of the people ignored them completely. As John sat down at the table with the other two, she saw a basket of bread rolls and croissants, and little pots of jam and other spreads sitting in the middle of the table.

"What is this?" John asked tentatively.

"Breakfast," Watson replied, buttering himself a roll.

"I mean, who organises this? Who sets it out on the tables, and clears it away? Does this happe for all meals in this place?"

Sherlock and Watson exchanged a look. "You know, I never really thought about that," Watson admitted. "But 'this place', as you call it, is more organised than you'd think. Its code name is Baker Street (we're big into Sherlock here), or just 221B if you're in a hurry."

Here Sherlock took up the narrative. "Everyone you see here is an experienced operative, working on the side of the government to help disable illegal agencies. We use children because people trust them, and nobody would suspect a kid of being a cop. That's what we essentially are, young cops. A bit like CHERUB, but less disciplined, and also real." She took a bite of roll, and Watson picked up the thread. "A few people live here, such as Sherlock now does; but most of us still live at home and commute, like me. It's a non-paying job, but it gives us good experience, and it looks good on your CV.

"However, it is top-secret, and can be very demanding. It's a hard job, but it can be very rewarding if you're good at it and you work hard."

"So why am I here then, if you're all so good at your jobs?" John interjected.

"Because we need someone on the inside," Watson replied, before catching the glare from Sherlock. "Oh, sorry, I thought she knew."

"Knew what?"

Sherlock sighed and put down her roll. "I'd better start from the beginning. You know those notes I got?"

"The anonymous ones?"

"You got it. Well, we think we have the person who sent them, or at least someone associated with that person."

"Let me guess. It's me, or it's someone at the school who I am close to; so you want me to go undercover? Is that it?"

Sherlock and Watson exchanged another look. "You know, she's smarter than you said she was," Watson remarked, then ducked out of the way of Sherlock's playful shove. Sherlock shook her head, and continued her narrative. "I need to ask you first, before I can tell you. Have you noticed anyone behaving…well, strangely, not normally? Anything that might seem as if someone isn't quite who they seem?"

John considered. "Do you know, you're the second person to have asked me that this year?"

Sherlock leant forward. "Really? Who was the first? Do you remember?"

John nodded slowly. "Yes, it was the day I made that speech about you. Ms Barker asked me."

o0o0o

Watson was following the conversation carefully. He didn't know who Ms Barker was, but he remembered a male called Barker on the list of possible suspects. Could this Ms Barker be a family member of his? Everyone working on the case at Baker Street had thought it had been the art teacher, Mr Smith. But that had been a tenuous link, and this Ms Barker seemed a much more likely prospect.

He pulled his mind back to the real world as the horn sounded, and all the people in the room started getting up and leaving. Sherlock and John stood up and let, and he followed them out, back down the steps, and around to Mrs Hudson's office.

"What's this?" John inquired, and Watson explained that they had been told to report to Mrs Hudson's office at first horn. He knocked on the door, and John looked up and down the corridor. Everyone from the dining room seemed to have disappeared.

The door opened and she looked around to see a tall, kind-looking lady smiling down at her. She was wearing a cardigan, and looked well over 50. However, there was a steely glint in her eye that made John think she was a lot tougher than she looked. "Hello, dears," she greeted them. "Come on in, then, and introduce me to your friend here."

They stepped into her office. It was mostly plain, with a small window and a picture of a bunch of flowers on the wall. The desk was disorganised yet tidy. The three teenagers sat down in chairs in front of the desk, and looked at Mrs Hudson as she sat down on the other side. "Now, dearie, I understand you're John now, hm?" she asked John gently.

"Yes, ."

"Well, John, pleased to meet you. I am Mrs Hudson, and Mycroft should be along shortly to see you as well. Now, how much do you know about why you are here?"

"Um, I know that you think that someone at my school was sending Becky – Sherlock, sorry – anonymous notes that eventually led to her faking her suicide in an unselfish bid to save us all."

Mrs Hudson blinked at John's straightforwardness. "Yes, that's about it so far. And have you found anyone it might be yet?" she asked, turning to Sherlock.

"Well, as you know we thought it might have been Mr Smith; but I have found someone with more than a tenuous link."

"Oh?"

"There was a man on the lit called Barker, if you remember. Well, the DP is called Ms Barker; and apparently she asked John here if there was anything strange about me. Could that be a link, do you think?"

"It's possible. MYCROFT!" she yelled, then smiled at John. "He'll be here in a minute. Mycroft and I are officially the heads of Baker Street, although he's more head than I am, if you know what I mean. He may seem stern, but he's a softie underneath. Oh, and you'll be pleased to know that he does have an umbrella." John giggled slightly at that – she'd read her mind.

A man popped his head around the door. He looked at the assembled party, then stepped into the room. He was slightly plump, but other than that looked perfectly average – average hair, average height, average eyes, all quite unremarkable. He was also the sort of person who would blend into a crowd easily. He bowed slightly to John, then went to stand behind Mrs Hudson. "Hello, John. Pleased to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Sherlock here."

John blushed slightly. "All good things, I hope." She really couldn't think of what else to say. Mycroft gave her a small smile, then turned his attention to Mrs Hudson. "You called?"

Mrs Hudson nodded at Sherlock, and Sherlock told him about Ms Barker. When she finished he was nodding. "Yes, I remember hearing about a Barker, but I dismissed her immediately. Maybe we should investigate her further, though? Yes, I'll get started on that right away."

Mrs Hudson turned back to the three people sitting in front of her. "Right. Now, I think John should see a little more of the facilities we have here, don't you? Take her for a look round, give her a tour. I will meet you in Meeting Room 1 at first horn after lunch. Okay?"

They all nodded, and left the room eagerly.

o0o0o

The next few hours passed in a blur as John tried to soak up everything there was. The old abandoned wool warehouse now sported a whole five floors, with workrooms and meeting rooms up the top and studios and gyms towards the bottom. The whole place was fitted out with state-of-the-art heating and cooling system, as well as advanced lighting and sound systems throughout the building. What looked from the outside like an old wreckage actually contained some of the most expensive technology in the country – and nobody knew about it.

John tried her hand at shooting and fencing, and she watched people do flips, and hurl themselves from tops of gyms onto crashmats below. She saw the replica room, where they made models of situations and made calculations from those; including the school tower Becky Lucas had jumped from. The whole place was amazing, and it was impossible to take it all in in just one morning. All the people here were so…so disciplined, so smart, and so strong. Just being around them, she felt inferior. But they all made her feel welcome, everybody was ice to her and patient, and smiled at her when they passed her in the corridor. John was overwhelmed by everything, and was glad when they sat down to lunch (sandwiches and toasties). When the first horn after lunch went, they made their way up to Meeting Room 1, at the very top of the building. There, they met with Mycroft and Mrs Hudson, and started to discuss how to get to Ms Barker. About half an hour into the meeting, they were interrupted by a knock to the door, and Watson got up to get it. A Police Officer stepped into the room, and John gasped slightly. The man standing there was none other than DI G. Proops, the man who had been heading the investigation into Becky Lucas' death.

"Di Proops!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you knew about Baker Street!"

""I knew you didn't know, but I didn't know you didn't know I knew."

"I didn't know then, but I know now, as is evident."

Watson interjected, a puzzled frown upon his face. "I lost track. What's happening?"

Sherlock turned to him and said, "You don't want to know."

Mrs Hudson ordered everyone to stop laughing, a small grin on her face. "DI Proops will be helping us in this investigation. Now, let's get back to work, please."

They worked for several hours, giving ideas and working out solutions to problems. At 5pm, John suddenly looked at her watch and jumped up. "Mrs Hudson, I'm so sorry, but I have to go home now. We're having dinner with my grandparents tonight."

"Very well, dear. Will you be able to come back tomorrow?"

"Yes, but I don't know where we are."

"Sherlock can fetch you, can't you?"

"Yes, I'd be happy to. No guns this time, don't worry." Sherlock smiled at John, and they left together. Mrs Hudson shepherded everyone else out of the room, and locked the door firmly behind them.

o0o0o

On the car on the way home, John sat in the front of the car with Sherlock. It was strange – she'd left the house yesterday being plain old Bella Long, and now she was returning as John, secret agent – or close enough. She supposed this must have been how Sherlock had felt, when she woke up after 'dying'. One minute Becky Lucas, the next Sherlock.

She was lost in her thoughts when Sherlock spoke. "Not too much to take in all at once, I hope?"

"No, not really. It's a lot to think about. I mean, my friend's returned from the dead, I've made a new friend, got a new name, and learnt one of the government's best-kept secret, all in the space of two days."

"You mean the government's only kept secret." Sherlock joked, and they laughed. After a while she spoke again. "What was it like, for you, when I…you know. Jumped."

John thought carefully before replying. "It was…to be honest, it was as if my world had ended. I sort of became a zombie, eating and sleeping only because I had to. My work was going down, my health wasn't doing too good either…I'm sorry," she said, when she caught sight of Sherlock's face. "That was mean…"

"No it wasn't, it was truthful." Sherlock's voice was harsh, but not as if she was angry at John, more at herself. "I shouldn't have left you like that, for so long, for so many months. I'm sorry, John, truly I am. There's no way I – we – can gain back those lost months. All I can do is hope you forgive me, and we can move onwards from there."

"But I have forgiven you!" John cried, throwing her hands in the air, slightly annoyed that the great Sherlock hadn't picked up on that. "I forgave you as soon as you explained why you had done it!"

"Really?" Sherlock's voice was hopeful.

"Yes!"

"Oh. Okay then." A pause, then, "Thank you."

They drove in silence, until they turned onto John's street. "Thank you for the ride," John said, a touch awkwardly. I think you'd better drop me here, and I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Okay then. See you tomorrow!"

"Goodbye." John stepped out of the car, and Bella stepped into the dark street. She made her way slowly up to her house, and in the front gate, letting herself in with the spare key. "I'm home!" she called, and her mother came running.

"Where were you? I was so worried, you didn't answer your phone…"

Bella looked at her phone, and found it was on silent. "Sorry mum."

Her mother stopped. "Why are you so happy?" she blurted out, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that! I meant…"

Bella cut her mother off, smiling. "It's okay. I understand. I'm sorry, for being such a zombie. But I'm better now, I've changed. And I'll start trying in school again and everything…I'm sorry."

"That's alright, Bella, I quite understand." her mother said and enveloped her in a large hug.


	9. Better

**A/N:** Thank you for reading this so far! Thank you to Alice Foxworth and Kimbalilly for the reviews, and more are always appreciated! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned all of this, it wouldn't be fanfiction, now would it? One thing I do like to do is to include plenty of references to other works of fiction in my writing, other than Sherlock. If you can pick any out, feel free to leave a review saying what they are.

* * *

Throughout the next week, Bella could still not quite believe what had happened. She had lost a friend several months ago, and then suddenly, out of the blue, that friend had returned, seemingly from the dead…even though she knew it was real, she kept pinching herself to see if she was dreaming. It all seemed to be too good to be true.

o0o0o

When Bella arrived at school on Monday, she was more cheerful than she had been in a very long while. Grace was waiting for her at her locker, a vaguely worried look on her face.

"You seem happy today," remarked Grace casually a Bella got her books ready for class.

"It's a nice day, the sun is shining, and the birds are singing…what isn't there to be happy about?"

Grace looked outside, at the rain lashing at the windows. "Okay, you really need to tell me what's going on with you," she said, pointing outside. Bella turned to look.

"Oh."

"Yeah." A pause. "Well?"

"I…I can't tell you sorry Grace. I'd love to but… just can't. Sorry."

"Well, Bella, I'm afraid that's just not good enough. Ever since Becky, you know…you've been acting as if there's no happiness in the world, like a dementor's got to you or something. For moths you've been moping around, being sad, dragging everybody around you down with you, including me. In case you haven't noticed, you don't have any friends left! I'm the only one who bothered to stick by you while you were grieving! And because of this, I don't have any friends left either! In case you hadn't noticed, she was my friend too. But that doesn't seem to matter to you, what you feel is obviously so much more important!" Grace took a deep breath and tried to calm down; people were starting to stare, and she'd had enough of people staring at them. After glaring at the offending starers, she continued with her rant.

"Anyway, what I was trying to say was that you come into school today, happily skipping and beaming at everyone, as if the past months haven't happened! And you can't even be bothered telling your one remaining friend what it is that's made you happy! It's not good enough, Bella, it really isn't. It's not fair, that you can recover so quickly and then expect me to just accept this and nothing's wrong." She finished at last, and looked expectantly at Bella.

Bella stepped forward towards Grace, and Grace flinched backwards.

"Hit me," Bella said calmly.

"What?"

"I said, hit me."

"Why?"

"Because I deserve it."

"Well, I can't fault that logic; but why do you _want_ me to hit you?"

"Because, Grace, I know exactly what it's like to have lost someone close to you for months, then have them return as if nothing's wrong and want you to get on with your life. I know how it feels, and how angry it makes you. And you want to slap them, and I won't stop you. So please, hit me if it makes you feel better. And I promise you, it will do."

Grace raised her hand hesitantly, looked quizzically at Bella, then shrugged and slapped her across the face once. She exhaled and stepped back.

"Better?"

"Better. Thank you."

Bella offered a small smile, and Grace returned it. She reached her arms out for a hug, and Bella stepped into her kind embrace. They both knew now that all was forgiven, and each was glad to have their friend back.

o0o0o

Over the course of the week, Bella's level and standard of work quickly picked up, and she began to ask and answer questions in class. She interacted more with people in that one week almost than she had done over the course of the previous few months. She could feel everybody's eyes on her, but that didn't matter to her any more. She had two friends now, one public and one secret; and some of her old friends were starting to talk to her. Even Kylee smiled at her once or twice. The teachers seemed glad to have their student back, and overall everybody was happy.

She began to eat lunch with the group again, and they welcomed her in. She caught up on all the latest gossip, such as Kylee's latest boyfriend Olly ditching her for 'some chick named Mary' as Kylee put it. She found it boring, but it was better than having no chatter, nothing to think about. Her mind needed distractions, or she felt it might explode. One thing was for sure; she couldn't wait for Saturday to come.

o0o0o

On Thursday, Bella was called out of English class to go to the office, where there was 'someone there to see her'. When she arrived there, she found that the 'someone' was DI Proops, the person who had been simultaneously heading the investigation into Becky's 'death' and working with Baker Street. He nodded when he saw her, then drew her aside and spoke in a low, urgent voice.

"Listen Bella, I have bad news. They're going to go ahead with Becky's inquest now." She started to speak, but he raised a hand, cutting her off. "I know. They weren't going to, and then it got put off and put off and put off…it turns out that now, even after these months, there's someone high up who's interested in this case, the girl who died like Sherlock Holmes.

"Of course, as her best friend, you will be called upon to be the star witness, as it were. This will require you to act to the very best of your ability, and then some. Do you think you can do this?"

"When is it?"

"A week tomorrow. Very short notice, I know, but if it's any comfort everybody involved also has to rush around and get things ready."

"What's the point of having an inquest, if it was 'suicide'?"

"This high-up person got suspicious of something, goodness only knows what, they're not telling. All I know is what I've told you already."

"Baker Street has influence, don't they? Can't they stop this? It's ridiculous!"

"Apparently not, not when the person concerned is the head of the country."

"You don't mean…"

"Afraid so. All you need to worry about is, can you do it? Can you act the same way you would have done a week ago?"

Bella looked down, then looked back up at him. "If we should fail?"

"We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we'll not fail. There will be a meeting at Baker Street on Saturday, we can discuss it then. I wanted you to have some prior knowledge though, so you can be ready." He smiled and gave Bella's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Now get back to class, and I'll see you in two days' time." He turned and left the building, his overcoat billowing behind him as he stepped out into the cold wind. Bella turned and set off back to English, her mind spinning.

o0o0o

On Saturday morning, Bella waited outside her gate, hunching her shoulders against the bitter cold. She had told her mother that she was going to Kylee's this time. Soon she was going to run out of people to 'visit'.

After a few minutes of waiting, a dark blue car pulled slowly to a stop on the road in front of her. A familiar face popped out, wearing a black beanie. "Can I take you anywhere?" Sherlock grinned, and Bella laughed, relaxing properly for the first time on days. She got in the back of the car, and knew that from then on she was John.

She rapped on the glass, and Sherlock drove off, the windows in the back blacking out as she did so. "Sorry about that," Sherlock called through the glass, "but you're still not supposed to know where we're going."

What the girls didn't see was the upstairs curtain closing again in Bella's house, nor did they see the worried-looking mother who drew back from the window.

o0o0o

An hour later, Meeting Rom One at the very top of Baker Street was occupied by Sherlock, John, Watson, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, and Lestrade sitting around a table. All looked serious, and Lestrade was leaning over the table, trying to get his point across to the assembled parties.

"Basically, Bella – John, sorry – needs to be there. She simply can't _not_ be there. She was the last person to speak to Becky, and it is widely known that the girls were each other's closest friend. Becky chose to call her phone, rather than someone else's. If she doesn't go it will look suspicious, to say the least."

"Worst case?" Mycroft was sharp and succinct.

"She gets charged with assisted suicide."

"What?" John was indignant. "That's ridiculous! Besides, if anyone should get charged with that, it's Watson…" she grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes at her. John continued. "So, if I have to go, what do I say?"

"Exactly what you thought, only a week ago; that Becky Lucas had died after jumping off a tower at her school. A simple suicide." Mrs Hudson replied.

"Bit why? I mean, why did she jump?"

All eyes turned to Sherlock; she seemed the best to answer that question. She shrugged. "I can't remember exactly what I said that day, I was just making stuff up off the top of my head. They seemed to buy it, so I went with it."

"Wait!" Watson interrupted her excitedly. He turned to Mrs Hudson. "Can I please have permission to pop down to my room, just for a moment? I have something that may help." She nodded, and he ran out the door. When he returned, a minute later, it was with a mobile phone. They all looked at it in confusion, except Sherlock. "I forgot to give this back to you, and you never asked," he told Sherlock. "This is the phone she used to call Bella," he clarified. "It was recording the conversation." He tapped a button, and a sound file began to play. John recognised it immediately, and her breath caught in her throat. Sherlock scooted over to her and put her arm around her friend.

_"Hello? Becky, where are you?"_

_"Look up."_

_"Becky? Is that you?"_

_"No, it's Santa Claus."_

_"Becky, Santa Claus does not wear a duffel coat and a deerstalker. Please don't insult out intelligence." Grace, always the voice of reason. Fair enough, thought Becky. "Yes, it's me. Of course it's me."_

_"What are you doing up there?"_

_"Three guesses."_

_"Becky, you can't do this. You have so much future! You were going to…what, be a computer programmer, right? Make games? C'mon, you can still do that!"_

_"That was three years ago. See, you're not my friend. I don't have friends. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me."_

_"But…I thought I was your friend!"_

_"I'm a fake."_

_"Okay, shut up. Shut. Up."_

_"What?"_

_The first time we met – the first time we met – you showed off your deductions to me, didn't you? You could tell stuff about me. You helped me, using that…that skill of yours. And don't you dare tell me that you researched me, or something ridiculous like that."_

_"Nobody could be that clever, and still be human. I used you, Bella, I used all of you! I have no friends! You were all just too stupid to notice it. And everybody thought I was so wonderful, there was so much stress, so much pressure on me to do well at everything. Well not any more! It ends here. Today. Right now. Keep your eyes faced on me!_

_"Kylee."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Just thought you might like to know, everybody here – myself included – thinks you're a bitch and wishes they weren't friends with you."_

_"What? What do you mean?"_

_"Exactly what I said. Do you want me to repeat it?"_

_"No! Well, I hope you do jump then!"_

_"Grace?"_

_"Yes Becky?"_

_"Just thought you might like to know…I'm a lesbian and I'm in love with you."_

_"Well…thanks for letting me know."_

_"Any time."_

_"Well, I guess it's time then."_

_"Wait. Wait a sec. Why did you phone me like this?"_

_This is my note, John. That is what people do, isn't it? Leave a note? Don't worry. Falling is just like flying, except there's a more…permanent destination."_

The conversation ended there, and everybody sat back. They hadn't realised they had been leaning forward. The table looked at Sherlock and John, then away again quickly when they saw the silent tears running down the girls' faces. Mycroft cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed, and the girls jumped and wiped their faces.

Watson waited until they were done, then he spoke. "So, as far as you know, Becky Lucas was a smart girl who didn't want to work with computers, thought she had no friends, used people who thought were her friends, wasn't afraid to speak her mind – albeit in her last moments – and, er, made a surprise coming-out speech. Where on Earth did that come from, by the way?" he asked, turning to Sherlock.

She shrugged again. "I was focusing on burning bridges. You can only take Sherlock quotes so far, then you're on your own. Most of them resented me because I had told Kylee what they thought of her, but Grace and Bella still liked me."

"They all liked you," John interrupted. "They all did, we all did. What you saw in their eyes wasn't resentment – it was respect, grudging respect because you had done what they never dared to do. You spoke your mind, and got their respect. Then you jumped and the spell was broken." There were fresh tears in her eyes, but she angrily wiped them away. It was more than John had said since she had arrived at Baker Street, and the table was silent for a few moments.

Then Lestrade cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, do you think you can do it John? Can you act that part? You are crying just thinking about that day, even though you know she's alive. I think that's a good sign, potentially this could mean that…" he trailed off. "Bad moment?" he guessed and Mycroft nodded slightly. "Sorry," he whispered and shrank back into his seat.

Eventually Mrs Hudson broke the silence, and then everybody started discussing what they could do now. It was decided that John would go to the inquest, and would just be herself – or at least, the herself from a week ago. By midday she had her speech sorted out in her mind. When the horn sounded for lunch, the children traipsed downstairs, leaving the adults to their boring talking.

The lunch served for that day was quesadillas, something John had never tried before. She loved them. At first horn after lunch, the trio went back downstairs, to the first room John had ever entered in Baker Street. She had later learned it was called 'The Couch Room' – very original. Sherlock and Watson left to go and sort something out with a friend of theirs, another agent.

John sat curled up on a couch in the freezing room, shivering. There was a rap at the door and she turned her head to see Watson standing behind her, holding a steaming cup. "Thought you might like something to keep you warm," he said, and offered her the mug. She accepted it gratefully and wrapped her chilled hands around the hot drink, inhaling the chocolatey aroma. "Thank you," she said and smiled up at him.

He sat down awkwardly on the couch opposite her, his mouth opening and closing slightly as if he was trying to say something, but didn't know how to phrase it. She watched him for a few moments, amused, then decided to put him out of his misery.

"Spit it out. What do you want?"

He spoke awkwardly. "I was wondering…what it was like…when Sherlock…Becky, rather…when you…you know…"

John looked down at her drink for a moment, then back up at him. "You've never lost anyone, have you?" He shook his head apologetically, and she smiled slightly. "Lucky you. I'll tell you what it feels like, to lose someone close to you, someone you love. It feels as if someone has placed a razor-sharp blade I a burning fire until it is white-hot, then had stabbed it into your chest and twisted it, taking part of your heart with it. It is the worst pain I've ever felt, worse than any physical pain, anything. I hope I never have to go through it again."

There was a moment of silence, then Watson looked up at John and quietly said, "Thank you." A couple of awkward seconds later, he jumped to his feet. "Right. Well, we should be getting on. Drink up. Where's Sherlock? She should have been here by now…I'll text her, ask her where she is." He pulled out his phone and started tapping quickly, then put it away again. "Sent," he said. A second later, they heard a buzzing outside the door, followed by footsteps running away. They exchanged a look, then Watson ran over and flung the door open in time for them to see a shock of red hair disappearing around the corner. Watson ran after her, and John sat back down on the couch, stunned.

'What have I done? What have I done to my best friend?' was all she could think. 'What have I done?'

* * *

**A/N:** What has she done? Thanks for reading, please review! I've decided not to update unless I get at least two more reviews, so I'm waiting…

Incidentally, if anyone is familiar with how an inquest works, I would be very grateful if you could please drop me a line as I have never been to one, nor do I know how they work or anything. Thanks!


	10. Success

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Sherlock, in case you're wondering.

* * *

John didn't see Sherlock or Watson for most of the day. At second horn she was called up into the meeting room again by an agent called Donovan, and she sat there alone, surrounded by adults. They carried on as normal, and no one drew attention to the two missing people.

By the time 5 o'clock rolled around, they had planned exactly what was going to happen at the inquest, and how John should answer every question they might throw at her. They started to talk about Ms Barker, and what they should do about her, when the horn blew for dinner.

John went downstairs to the 'young people's dining room', as Mrs Hudson put it, and headed for the usual table. A couple of minutes later Sherlock and Watson came in and sat down as if nothing had happened. The girls avoided eye contact, then simultaneously looked at the other and whispered, "I'm sorry." They each raised an eyebrow, and sat there uncertainly until Watson let out a great guffaw of laughter. They looked at him, eyebrows still raised, then started to smirk. By the end of the meal all was forgiven, and the pair were friends again. Cheesy, but true.

o0o0o

Back in the meeting room after dinner, it was decided that John would need to sneak into Ms Barker's office to steal a key, so that Baker Street could copy it and use it to get into her office to try and find intelligence from her. That sorted, all parties went to bed.

John was taken to Sherlock's small bedroom, on the second-to-top floor. It had a small window, a luxury in a top-secret base such as this. They got ready for bed, and lay down, Sherlock in her bed and John in a sleeping bag on the floor.

"There's something wrong with that plan, but I can't think what," Sherlock murmured as she closed her eyes. It wasn't until a few hours later that she shook John awake, who sat up with a start.

"What is it? What's happening? What do we do?"

"I worked out what's wrong with the plan!"

"What plan?" John asked sleepily; she didn't appreciate being woken up so early.

"You can't get into Ms Barker's office to steal her keys, because she wears them around her neck!" Sherlock sat back triumphantly, before realising what that meant. "So we'll have to make a new plan…"

John rolled over and went back to sleep.

o0o0o

"If we can't steal the keys, we'll have to copy them somehow. John, do you think you can get yourself into her office?" Mrs Hudson asked then next day. They were back up in the usual meeting room.

"Easily," she replied confidently.

"Right, so if she gets into the office, how does she copy them from Barker's necklace? Don't you think she'd notice?" Watson spoke sceptically.

"She doesn't wear them all the time, just when she's out of her office. If I can get in there when she's in there, they will be on the desk right in front of me. Easy."

"And how are you going to get in, John?" Lestrade asked slightly anxiously.

"Barker's the DP in charge of discipline, all I need to do is get in trouble. I know people who are always in trouble, how hard can it be?"

Famous last words.

o0o0o

MONDAY

At lunchtime, Bella waited in the corridor, a couple of metres from the door to Ms Barker's office. She had been standing there for at least a quarter of an hour, and kept getting funny looks from people; when she heard the lady inside shut her laptop and get up, her chair squeaking. Bella tensed. There were creaks as she plodded across the floor, then the door opened silently. She started running, and was just in time to bowl Ms Barker over onto the floor, then stand up and run away.

"You! Come here!"

She stopped when she heard the shout from behind her, and turned and walked away, trying to move slowly, unwillingly. "Yes, Ms Barker?"

"Could you please help me up? Some kid ran into me. Did you see who it was?" When Bella didn't answer, she jokingly said, "I don't suppose it was you, was it?"

Bella automatically said, "No, Ms Barker." Barker smiled and walked away. Bella stared after her, mentally kicking herself. How could she be so stupid?

TUESDAY

Bella stood on the ground outside Ms Barker's office, looking up at the window. She held a handful of stones, and looked through them, selecting the largest and heaviest. She hefted it in her palm, raised it, and…

"Everything all right there, Bella? You stretching?" Ms Barker's voice sounded from behind her.

Bella spun around and gaped. "Wha- what?"

Barker smiled. "I said, are you practising stretches? For sport?"

"Um…yes, yeah sure. Yes."

"Good. I'm just popping out for lunch now with Mr Platipos. See you later!" With that she got into her car and drove off, the Greek teacher Mr Platipos in the back seat.

Bella stood and stared at them, then dropped the stone with a sigh. Another opportunity wasted. This really wasn't going to plan.

WEDNESDAY

After unsuccessfully attempting to set off fireworks in the staff room, surprising the wrong teacher by jumping out of a cupboard, and misspelling a rude word on the whiteboard so it wasn't rude, Bella caved in and rang Sherlock on the number she had been given.

"How do people get in trouble so easily? This is ridiculous? I've tried at least five times, and either I muck it up or I don't get blamed!"

Sherlock chuckled on the other end of the line. "It seems to me you need to get her attention, rather than just doing something bad."

"How do I do that?"

"Remember that assembly, when you stood up in front of everybody and spoke about me? That got everybody's attention. No one was expecting you to do that. The first rule, the golden rule of getting someone's attention is to do something shocking, something they're not expecting. Something that comes out of nowhere, something no one would ever dream that sweet Bella Long would ever do. If you do that, then you have her attention. Then you can get in trouble, or get into her office."

"Any ideas?"

"How about you put an explosive in her office?"

"Anything a little less…illegal?"

"Um…maybe you could do something in assembly tomorrow."

"Can't tomorrow."

"Why not?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "The inquest into your death, stupid! Where I have to go up and talk to people about how you died, but you didn't really die, and I don't know if I can do that, act that well, and so I'll just take the train, mother, then walk from there."

Sherlock looked at the phone, confused. "What?"

"I said, I'll take the train, and walk from there, mother," Bella said into the phone, then to someone else, "I'm just calling my mother, checking how I'm going to get home today, Mr Platipos."

A male voice answered. "But you usually walk. Why would you take the train a few blocks away?"

"Uh…because I need to go to piano practice tonight, over the other side of town." A pause, then Bella spoke again. "Sorry about that. What were you saying?"

"I-" she managed to say before there was the sound of a bell ringing at the other end of the line.

"Shoot! I need to get to Spanish!" Bella said. "I'll talk some other time, all right?" With that she hung up.

THURSDAY

Bella finally managed to find a way to get into Ms Barker's office, but it wasn't the way she had been planning. No sir, this was something different indeed.

She was going to be nice.

After grovelling all day, holding doors open, following Barker around, practically licking her boots, she was eventually invited in.

Ms Barker stepped into the room and sat down, motioning for Bella to follow. She lifted the lanyard with her keys from around her neck and placed it on the table between them.

"Well, Bella, what do you want?"

Bella was taken aback slightly. "What do you mean?"

"A girl of your age isn't nice to a teacher all day for no reason. What do you want?" Bella started to speak, but she was interrupted. "Is it your report? I know. You're worried that your report will be bad because you've been sad about your friend. Well, let me take a look."

She turned around and started searching through a filing cabinet behind her. Now was Bella's chance. She carefully reached over and casually placed a hand on the keys, pressing down lightly as she had been told. She counted fifteen seconds, then removed her hand cautiously as Ms Barker span back around in her chair, holding a file.

Bella was spared any more conversation by the perfectly timed ringing of the bell at that exact moment. "I need to go now, Ms Barker, I've got English class to get to."

"Very well, you go then. See you another time, maybe."

Bella smiled and nodded, then practically ran out of the small room. Safely out in the corridor, she glanced down at her hand to see the perfect impression of the key in the wax concealed in her palm. She smiled and went to class.

Ms Barker smiled as she looked up at the blinking red light in the corner of the room, which had recorded Bella's every move.

Both sides were successful that day.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are awesome, as are the reviewers!


	11. Inquest

**Disclaimer:** Guess what? I don't own Sherlock.

* * *

FRIDAY

Bella woke up, and immediately closed her eyes again, dreading the day ahead. She groaned and got ready for school, going as slowly as she could, putting off going to school. She knew she had to go eventually. It wasn't school she was dreading, though; it was what was to come afterwards.

She managed to get through the school day, paying the least attention necessary to the lessons and not offering any answers. It was a repeat of the months she had spent in despair. Grace kept giving her hugs and encouragement throughout the day, which made her feel slightly better; but when the end of the day came, she was feeling sick to her stomach.

Grace, to her surprise, took the same bus as her. "You going downtown too?"

Grace laughed at her. "Yes, silly, of course I am! I was her friend too, remember? I've got to testify as well, or whatever they call it. What d'you think we'll have to do? What will they ask us? Do you think…" Grace kept prattling on like this while Bella stared out the window. She tried to concentrate on what she had to say, what they had decided in Baker Street, but Grace's voice kept distracting her. Eventually she had to ask her as politely as she could to shut up, please, and then they rode in silence.

After an age they arrived at the buildings, the dark depressing building with the high arches that seemed to frown at them as they got off the bus and went inside. Grace huddled closer to Bella, seeming to forget how hostile she had been before. Together, they walked through the forbidding arches and high marble ceilings inside, until they reached a small room. On the door there were the words 'Rebeca Lucas' on a white A4 sheet of paper. They exchanged a glance, then went inside.

They were greeted by a young woman with a kindly face who smiled at them and directed them to some seats around the outside of the room. It was like a doctor's waiting room, but somehow darker, more depressing. There are a few people also sitting down – Bella recognises Becky's parents; some other people from school, including the teacher whose office Becky fell outside; and a boy who looks familiar. _Very_ familiar. As Bella stares at him, he raises his head and winks at her. His dark curly hair is unmistakeable. She is looking at Watson.

He comes over and sits next to them. "Hello, girls," he says cheerily. Grace shrinks away slightly at the sight of this strange boy talking to them, but Bella just smiles and greets him also. "I'm Mike, and who are you?"

"Well, I'm Bella, and this is Grace. We were Becky's friends." Grace is pulling on her sleeve, trying to get her to stop talking to him, but Bella keeps talking. "And you are..?"

"I'm…" he realised he couldn't very well say boyfriend, "a friend of Becky's. A good friend, knew her for a long time."

"She never mentioned you," Bella said, smirking at 'Mike'.

Mike shoots Bella a glare, but keeps smiling. "Yeah, well I expect she had more important things to talk about at school with her friends." He looks away for a second, then back at the girls. "So, what do you think they're going to do?"

Grace answers this time, to the others' surprise. "Ask us questions? That's what's supposed to happen, anyway," she sneers slightly, staring him down. After a minute he gets the hint and moves away again, winking at Bella first. "Who was that creep?" Grace demands immediately.

Before Bella can answer, the smiling woman steps into the room and calls, "Bella Long? Is there a Bella Long here?" Bella looks at Grace, then stands up, nodding. "If you'd like to come this way, please." The woman directs her down the corridor and into a larger room, with lots of people inside. She steps onto a small stand, and a microphone is adjusted to her height. She then turns to face the frowning people, all of whom are scrutinising her with their gazes.

A man speaks. "Your name?"

Bella looks at him as if he is crazy, but she says, "Bella Long."

"Relationship to the deceased?"

"I was her friend. Her best friend."

The man coughs. "Miss Long, I understand you were the last to speak with the deceased?"

Bella is suddenly irritated. "She had a name, you know!"

A pause, then the man consults his notes. "The last to speak with Miss Lucas?"

"Yes. Yes, I was."

"Tell me about that."

Bella takes a deep breath, then starts telling him everything that happened that day. How Becky had gathered everybody together, then called her from the top of the tower. How they had had a conversation, both quoting Sherlock. How Becky had then jumped, twisting and flailing from the top of the tower. How Bella had raced upstairs, how she had cried over her friend's body, how the ambulance had come and people gently prised her away from Becky. How she had gotten one last glimpse of Becky's bloody face before the blanket was pulled up over her head, and she was taken away in the ambulance forever.

When she was finished she looked around the room, at all the frowning faces. They seemed to be frowning less now, some faces almost neutral. One man, over the other side of the room, was staring intently at Bella, staring at her face. It made her uncomfortable.

The man cleared his throat again, and asked about the funeral. So Bella told him that also, about how she had not been able to speak properly, how Grace had helped her, how she had felt so awful she couldn't remember it very well. The only thing she didn't tell him was about the strange person hidden by the coffin, dressed as the Grim Reaper. Something told her she should not mention that.

"Now, Miss Long, I understand you were…unhappy…for a long time after the death?" Bella looked into his face, and nodded. "And yet you made a miraculous recovery from this a few weeks ago?" he pressed. She nodded again, growing suspicious. "Can you tell me why this came about?"

"I…I don't really know, I guess I just realised that Becky Lucas was never coming back, and it was time to accept this and move on." He voice cracked slightly. The man nodded and motioned to the smiling woman, who came and ushered Bella out of the room again. They passed Grace on the way out, and she sat in the waiting room until Grace came out. She and 'Mike' tried not to make eye contact.

When Grace came out, finally, the pair of them left the building together and took the bus back to school. On the way, they chatted, talking about the inquest and what had just happened.

"Did you see that guy's face? It was like 90% eyebrow!"

"And everybody kept frowning, and nobody was smiling…"

"And the eyebrow guy, he kept asking me questions as if he was trying to trap me…"

They continued like this until they reached Bella's stop. She bid farewell to Grace and got off the bus, and started to walk home. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Now the inquest was over, she could get on with the investigation.

o0o0o

Adler sat at a large, dark imposing desk. There was a tentative knock at the door, and the man, she called him Jim, stepped into the room.

She turned her gaze upon him, bored. He hesitantly placed a large envelope on her desk. She looked inside. There were photos and a DVD. She nodded and turned away. The man gave a hesitant cough, and she rolled her eyes and threw a smaller envelope at him. He could feel the weight of the cash inside. He turned and left the room hurriedly, closing the door behind him.

Adler sifted through the photographs. They consisted mostly of one girl, with short brown hair. She was sitting next to a girl with long hair; talking to a boy with dark curly hair; speaking into a microphone, eyes closed; sitting alone, looking worried; and getting off a bus, waving at someone inside the bus. She looked at the DVD. The words, 'Inquest Testimony' were written crudely on the disk, and she knew that the video on it would be of a girl talking of her friend's last moments. She placed the things back in the envelope, satisfied.

"Gotcha, Miss Lucas," the woman known as Ms Barker said.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to Kimbalilly, Guest, and Alice Foxworth for their reviews so far. I would be very grateful for more reviews from my lovely readers!


	12. Jealous

**A/N:Welcome back! Sorry it's been a while, I've been quite busy, and I had writer's block for a while.**

**There will be considerably more action and interesting bits in the next few chapters, now the inquest is out of the way. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

On Saturday, Bella could hardly wait to get to Baker Street. She was in such a hurry that she forgot her toothbrush on her way out the door to 'Grace's house'. Her mother took it outside to give to her just in time to see her once again get into a car with a strange girl. This is getting serious, she thought as she headed back inside, toothbrush still in hand.

o0o0o

As soon as Bella, or John as she was now, reached Meeting Room One she threw the wax impression of the key down on the table triumphantly. Mrs Hudson nodded to an agent, Donovan, who took it downstairs to be processed. She then turned her best smile upon John for the first time ever. "Well done, dear, you make an excellent agent for someone who hasn't been trained." John wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, so she just nodded.

Mrs Hudson turned and addressed the whole table: John, Sherlock, Watson, Mycroft, Anderson, and a couple of other agents whom John did not recognise. "Now, some updates: John has managed to get an impression of the keys to the office of an alleged Ms Barker. Watson has been doing some surveillance of this woman, and has worked out most of the woman's schedule.

"On a side note, John and Watson both went to the inquest of Becky Lucas this week, and did a superb job. We currently have people working on the evidence given in said inquest, and we are working to create the outcome we desire.

"Back to the matter at hand. I have requested 24-hour surveillance on this 'Ms Barker', and we hope to get full reports this afternoon. Basically, this means we can know when she's at home, when she's shopping, when she's working, and so on. This could be beneficial for if and when we need to search her car, house or office.

"Are there any questions?"

There were none, so Mrs Hudson dismissed the group until the keys were finished. As everybody was leaving, she called John and Watson back for a second. She motioned for Sherlock to leave without them.

"Now, John, I understand there is a dance coming up at your school?"

"There is?" John replied, confused; she hadn't heard about it.

"You should hear about it on Monday. Anyway, This 'Ms Barker' will be there, and I need surveillance on her there."

"So, you want me to watch her?" John asked, already ahead.

"Yes, however I cannot let you observe alone unfortunately. You will need another agent present, a trained one, one you have worked with before. Now, we can't very well have Sherlock walk in there, so it will have to be someone else. The only other option, it seems, is Watson."

"With him?"

"With her?"

They spoke simultaneously, John an octave higher than usual, Watson choking out the words as if they were hard to digest.

"Yes." With that, Mrs Hudson grinned at them and sailed out of the room, blissfully unaware of the problems she had just caused.

o0o0o

Two and a half hours later, the large group reassembled in the Meeting Room, along with a few other agents that had not been there before. John was surprised at how many people there were here; it was a veritable beehive. There were so many people in the small room that some had to sit on a table, or stand.

Mrs Hudson swept in, beaming. In her hand she held a small, familiar-looking key. "We have this and two more copies. This means that we can now send agents into 'Ms Barker's' office at a time that we know she will be out."

"The school will have to be open," Mycroft continued for her, "but we will need to have her far away from her office if possible, or at least in no danger of going inside. To do this, we will also need agents available to watch her and distract her if necessary, as well as a couple to search her office and one more on lookout. That's at least five agents in all."

"The best time we can find for this is the upcoming dance, when 'Barker' will be one of the teachers on duty. The two operatives we have chosen to be at the dance, to watch and distract, are John and Watson." Mrs Hudson raised a hand towards the pair, who stood against a filing cabinet looking slightly embarrassed. Sherlock looked at the pair in surprise; they had 'forgotten' to tell her. She straightened up again, nostrils flaring. John and Watson both knew from experience that this meant trouble later.

Mycroft took up the narrative, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. "The two operatives to search the office are Sherlock and Anderson, and the lookout will be one Hooper." He pointed to Sherlock and Anderson, squashed together on a chair, and a small, plain girl, presumable Hooper.

"Does everybody understand what they are doing? If anyone has any questions, please don't hesitate to ask myself or Mycroft. You are dismissed." With that, Mrs Hudson gave another wave of her hand, and everybody squeezed out the door.

Sherlock strode off down the narrow corridor before John or Watson could get out of the room. "Sherlock!" John called but she did not turn around. They saw her red hair swish around a corner, then she was gone.

o0o0o

The next day was filled with preparations for the dance. Watson and Anderson were teaching John how to work undercover and watch people without being seen. That would be her job for the evening, along with Watson. As she was learning to follow without following (which, by the way, was even harder than it sounds – good thing John was a quick learner) Mrs Hudson, Sherlock, Hooper, and some other operatives were working on how they would infiltrate Barker's office.

At the end of a busy day, everybody involved sat down for dinner in Meeting Room Three, which was larger than Meeting Room One. Despite the size, John and Watson still found themselves squished into a corner, with Sherlock staring daggers at them from across the room again.

Watson caught John pulling apologetic faces at Sherlock and stopped her. "Just let her stew, if she's going to be jealous," he muttered under his breath. "It's just an operation, goodness knows she's been on missions with other boys before and I haven't minded. Just leave her alone, and she'll come round eventually."

John tried to relax, and found herself enjoying the risotto that the 'invisible cook' had prepared for that night. By the end of the evening, she was laughing and joking with Watson and Donovan, and she had become friendly with Hooper as well. Everybody here was so nice, she reflected, and she no longer felt as if she was a long way behind everyone else. She felt as if she belonged.

o0o0o

A couple of weeks later, they were finally ready; and none too soon – it was the day of the dance. John had selected her dress, and Watson was wearing a casual suit of the type Sherlock wore in the TV series. He even wore a waistcoat. Somehow, he managed to pull off the formal outfit while making it look casual. All he was missing was the long coat, then…John shook her head. She needed to stop thinking like this. He was her best friend's boyfriend, for goodness' sake!

She snapped out of her reverie to see Watson looking at her, a strange look on his face. The he, too, shook his head, and smiled at her. "Shall we go, my lady?" he joked, holding out his arm. She took it, smiling, and together they descended the stairs into the main corridor of Baker Street.

His suit and her light blue dress looked perfect together, thought Sherlock as she saw her two best friends come down the stairs. She still thought of them as friends, despite the fact they were going to a dance together and hadn't thought to tell her. She turned and stalked out of the building ahead of them, hopping into the driver's seat of one of the waiting cars.

John and Watson grinned nervously at each other, then clambered into the back of another of the cars. When they got out, they would be boring old Bella and Mike again.

The two black cars and the van swept out of the property in sequence, heading for the school a couple of miles away.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading, now please review! The next chapter will not be put up until the number of reviews exceeds the number of chapters (and they need to be written by more than one person, Kimbalilly!). Thank you!**


	13. Dance

**A/N: **Thank you for reading thus far! This is John's first operation, let's hope all goes smoothly for her.

Thanks to the reviews so far, just remember more are always appreciated!

* * *

BASE

Mrs Hudson sat in the back of the nondescript black van with Donovan, wearing a headset and facing a panel of control switches. She spoke into a microphone in front of her, talking to the occupants of both cars as well as Mycroft, who was back at Baker Street monitoring the operation.

"Just to recap, the three teams are John and Watson, Sherlock and Anderson, and Hooper. John and Watson will be called 'dance', Sherlock and Anderson 'recon', and Hooper 'eyes'. I am 'base', and Mycroft is 'umbrella'. Barker is 'target' in reference. Quick roll call, to make sure we're all on the same page. Dance?"

"Here, base."

"Recon?"

"Here, base."

"Eyes?"

"Alive and kicking, base."

"Less of the sass next time, young lady. Umbrella?"

"Present as always, base."

"Right. Now, a final reminder: only use this secure channel we are using now. Only use another channel if you _must_, and if that happens, make sure you scramble the frequency. Understood?" There were four mumbled replies. "Good. You all know what to do and where to go. At the risk of sounding clichéd, it's showtime!"

DANCE

Bella and Mike carefully exited the car, nodding at Hooper, or 'eyes', as they left. He was wearing and earpiece, and microphone under his collar (Bella called it, 'Mike's mic'), while she had a small microphone nestled into the folds of her dress.

Together, the pair walked steadily towards the hall, where they showed their tickets and went inside. The place was dark, the coloured lights making everything green, then red, and blue. They had arrived early, and only a few people were there; but the music was already thumping, making it hard for them to hear each other.

Mike pretended to cough, and said into his microphone, "Dance to base. We're in."

There was a pause, then a reply came through his earpiece. "Any sign of the target yet?"

He scanned the room, but could not see her. "Negative."

"Okay. Keep looking. We need to know where she is before we can progress."

"Received." He straightened his neck and looked down at Bella. "We need to find that Barker of yours, or it all turns to custard."

She smiled at him and took his hand in hers. He looked shocked, then saw she was looking behind him. He spun around to see her friends coming through the door, in a little group. She walked over to greet them, shouting over the music as she introduced her 'new boyfriend' to them. He nodded and smiled, trying to urge Bella away so they could look for Barker.

A new tune came over the sound system, and Mike took the opportunity to whirl Bella away mid-sentence, rapidly moving in an approximation of dancing towards the opposite corner.

She jerked away and turned on him. "What was that for?"

"Keep focused, Bella. John. Keep on track, or all the work will have been for nothing. You getting the key, getting into her office. This is more important than your friends. Just one night of work. Or Becky's death will have been for nothing." He growled the words into her ear, then felt bad as she turned away, her eyes glinting in the orange light. He put his arms around her shoulders. "Hey, I'm sorry. That was a low blow." He spoke soothingly, and she felt better.

Suddenly, Bella stiffened, and looked over Mike's shoulder. He turned, then bent his head immediately to his collar. "Dance to base. We have eyeball on the target. Repeat, positive eyeball on Barker."

"Well done. What's she doing?"

He looked again. "She is now greeting people at the door, collecting tickets and so on. It should be safe to go up."

"You're positive that it is her?"

"Positive."

BASE

"You're positive that it is her?"

"Positive." He spoke confidently, and she trusted him absolutely.

She turned to Donovan and said, "Give eyes and recon the go-ahead."

Donovan nodded and turned to the controls, flicking switches and opening the channel he needed. "Base to eyes. Eyes, do you read me?"

"Eyes to base. Loud and clear."

"Move in. Now."

"Received."

Donovan opened another channel. "Base to recon. Do you read me?"

"Yup."

"Move in with eyes. Now."

"Okey-dokey. I mean received."

RECON

There was a knock at the window, and Anderson wound the window down to see Hooper peering in at them. "It's time," she said, and Sherlock and Anderson leapt out of the car without hesitation. Hooper raised her eyebrows a bit at their outfits, but said nothing.

Sherlock wore an outfit like Jenny Flint's from Doctor Who: a fitted catwoman-type leather suit with long legs and sleeves. There were pockets all over the costume, containing useful items such as radios, lockpicks, and a secret weapon of her own design.

Anderson wore a similar suit, black and fitted over his slim body. He had only two pockets, containing a radio and a folder for any incriminating papers they might find in the search of the office.

The three trained operatives crept along the street to the school, and slipped inside the partially closed gate one by one. They were hidden from the eye by the total darkness, courtesy of Donovan turning off the street lights in the area.

They slunk up the driveway and reached the building at last. Sherlock stood in the plant bed to get to a window, reaching into one of her pockets to pull out a small toolkit. She selected a small hammer inset with a diamond, and used it to tap on a window in one corner. The window splintered, and she reached a tool in carefully to unlock the window. The three adolescents slipped through the window and landed on the carpet inside an office.

Hooper carefully pushed the door open and the three set off down a corridor, making their steps as quiet as possible despite the fact there was no one else in the building. They arrived at a flight of stairs. Recon ascended, while eyes stood at the bottom, watching and waiting.

EYES

"Eyes to base. I'm in position. Recon heading up now."

"Good. Hold your position, be ready to move if need be."

"Received."

DANCE

Bella and Mike swayed to the music, him keeping an eye on Barker over her shoulder. After a while he started gently leading her away from where they were, following the woman across the room.

Bella looked over her shoulder to see Barker disappear into a small room off the hall that was used as a kitchen. They got to the door in time to hear the woman go through another door, leading out of the kitchen. Mike opened the door and peeked in, but she was nowhere to be seen.

He quickly spoke into his microphone. "Dance to base. We have lost eyeball on the target, repeat lost eyeball." He spoke clearly, stressing the words. "She has gone into a kitchen off the hall and we cannot see her anymore."

"Do you know where she is?" Mrs Hudson's voice was strained.

"In a room off the kitchen, we think."

"Move in, get a visual, or at least and audio. Do you understand?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

"Good." The earpiece cut off, ending the conversation.

Mike turned to see Bella looking at him expectantly. He took a breath and entered the kitchen, pulling Bella behind him. She looked around the check that nobody noticed their leaving. No one did.

The kitchen was dark and cramped and smelt of old Chinese food. The only source of light was an old skylight that cast a dim glow on the room, just enough to be able to not trip over anything. The pair crept up to the door Barker had gone through and were rewarded by a voice coming through.

"I've had enough of your crap, Jim! Just get the job done! You've been watching this girl for ages and you haven't got anywhere." There was a pause, then she spoke again. "Yeah, yeah, I know. So you keep saying. No more excuses! You have one week. Then I might just have to hand the job over to a certain friend of yours, one who has been getting better results than you before, I might add."

Bella and Mike looked at each other in wonder and excitement. Mike checked that his microphone was on, and it was. All transmissions were being recorded, so this conversation that they were overhearing was being committed to a hard drive in the van right at that moment.

Barker's voice came once more from inside the room. "One week. That's all." There was a beep, as if she was hanging up a phone. Footsteps came from inside the room, getting louder. The two listening realised they wouldn't be able to get out of the kitchen before the door opened. Bella panicked, but Mike closed his eyes and whispered, "Play along." He then grabbed Bella and pushed her against the hard wall.

* * *

**A/N:** How will they get out of this sticky situation? Read onto find out!


	14. Shooting

**A/N:** Welcome to the next exciting installment in the story!

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Sherlock...

* * *

TARGET

Ms Barker was in for a series of surprises when she stepped out of the small cupboard and into the dark kitchen.

The first surprise was that she was not alone in the dingy room.

The second surprise was that there was not one person in there with her, but two.

The third surprise was that one of them was the shy, non-wave-making Bella Long.

The fourth was that she seemed to be engrossed in kissing a strange boy.

The fifth was that the pair seemed to be kissing so passionately that they didn't notice when she cleared her throat.

Or when she walked up to them and tapped Bella on the shoulder.

Or when she rolled her eyes and went out the door beside them.

But the biggest surprise she got was when she went out the door and realised who that boy was. He had looked familiar somehow. She realised he was the boy from the photographs, the one that had been going out with Rebecca Lucas. Come to think of it, he was talking to Bella at the inquest, wasn't he? They had seemed fairly close, judging by the photographs Jim had taken.

So Bella Long was going out with her deceased friend's boyfriend? Interesting…

DANCE

Bella and Mike broke apart, Mike staggering away to the other side of the room as soon as the door closed on Barker. They were both gasping for air. Bella bent over and put her fingers on her mouth shakily.

Mike shook his head. "That was too close."

She nodded vehemently in agreement, then looked up at him for the first time. In the dim light she could barely see the dull flush creeping up his cheeks. She could feel her own face getting hot.

There was an awkward pause, then she cleared her throat and spoke. "I must admit, of all the escape plans I imagined you might have, that wasn't one of them."

He started to chuckle, then jumped a mile as a voice sounded in his ear. "What was the plan, Stan?" Oh bother, damn and blast, he'd left the channel open! The two people in the trailer had heard everything. And Donovan sounded much more amused than she had a right to be.

"Donovan," he growled, "if you breathe a word of this to anyone…"

"Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, Watson?" Mrs Hudson's voice cut into the conversation, sharp and disapproving.

"No, Mrs Hudson."

"Good. Now you've lost eyeball on the target for at least two minutes. Get out there now! Goodness only knows where she is."

Mike could practically hear her rolling her eyes as he grabbed Bella's arm and dragged her to the door. He spoke to her seriously. "We need to get out there again now. You ready?" She nodded. "Now, what just happened, never happened. Got me?" Another nod. "Let's go." With that, he pulled the door open and slipped out. She stood there, stunned, as the realisation slowly sank in. _Mike, her best friend's boyfriend, had just kissed her._

RECON

As Bella and Mike left the kitchen, Sherlock and Bella were in the process of searching the target's office, wearing headlights and carrying torches. Sherlock was looking up at the picture frames when she noticed something red in her peripheral vision. She turned slightly, carefully, and saw a blinking red light in a corner behind the desk. It looked suspiciously like a camera, or some kind of recording device.

Sherlock's voice was strained as she spoke. "Anderson – don't – face – me."

He stiffened and turned, the light from his headlamp stopping just short of Sherlock's face. "What is it?" he asked urgently.

"There…in the corner…"

Anderson turned his head and pointed it up at the ceiling, towards the corner that Sherlock indicated. Again, he stopped the light just short of the camera.

"What do we do?" he hissed; she was the superior agent on this mission.

"Keep your light on it. I'm going to try and disable it."

Anderson kept the light in the corner while Sherlock climber carefully up onto a chair, and from there onto a filing cabinet. Trying not to step on a potted fern, she reached up slowly, slowly to the small black object. Suddenly, she had the camera off the wall, her hand over the lens, and was jumping down from the cabinet, making a perfect landing on the carpet below.

She turned to the desk, still keeping her palm over the lens, and placed the small object on the flat surface. Anderson followed her, and stood behind her as she cracked open the casing carefully. Inside there was an infra-red light, so it could see in the dark. That meant it had picked up all their movements. However, the good news was that also inside the camera was a memory chip, and no transmitter. This meant that the feed from the camera wasn't being transmitted anywhere outside of the camera, so the images were still in the camera.

"I'll take this," Sherlock remarked, deftly pulling out the memory chip and slipping it into her top pocket. She then replaced the camera casing and jumped back up onto the cabinet, slotting the camera back into place on its little wall-bracket.

BASE

Donovan sat up from her half-lying position when she heard Mike's voice come over the radio. "We have eyeball on the target, repeat, we have regained positive eyeball on the target."

She relaxed slightly, and allowed herself a smile. "Good. Keep watching her, we can't allow her to get away."

"Received. Over and out, captain." His mic cut off.

Donovan rolled her eyes and grinned at his silliness. He was a crack-up. Sherlock sure was a lucky girl.

Suddenly, Sherlock's voice cut into her thoughts. "Base? You there?"

"Yes, Recon. Anything to report?"

"We found a camera hidden in the office. It has a memory card, or rather had a memory card; and there didn't appear to be any kind of transmitted in the device. I replaced the shell back on the wall, but I've still got the card."

"Good work, Recon. Let's hope it takes a couple of days for her to notice that it's missing. Have you found anything else yet?"

"No, not yet. We'll keep looking."

"You do that."

She cut off the connection to Recon and turned away, rubbing her eyes. Time for another rest, she thought. Mrs Hudson would be back sometime soon from her mysterious outing, and she needed to look alert for that.

DANCE

Bella was spinning around the dance floor, led by Mike. They tried to look as if they were enjoying themselves while not drawing attention to themselves, all the while watching and following Barker. Oh, and they were trying to steer clear of Bella's school friends as well. What with the music and the lights and the noise and the bodies dancing around, this was harder than it sounded. All this on top of that kiss, which she could not stop thinking about.

Bella was confused, to say the least.

RECON

Sherlock was searching the pictures again, having conducted a thorough sweep of the room and ensured that there were no more cameras, when she heard a triumphant cry. She spun around to see Anderson holding a small piece of wood in the air. On closer inspection it proved to be a false panel from a top of a cupboard that stood behind the door.

Together, they inspected the cubby-hole thoroughly, discovering that it housed many folders and files and loose sheets of paper, as well as a small green box. It was locked, but that could easily be remedied back at Baker Street. They contacted base to let them know that they were done, then stuffed the papers and files into Anderson's large pockets. Sherlock took the box. Tucking it under her arm, she left the room quietly with Anderson, first checking that everything was back in the right places. She locked the door with the copied key, and the Recon team crept back down the corridor to where they knew Hooper stood waiting. They had been victorious in their mission, and were hurrying along when there was a sound from the bottom of the stairs.

The pair froze, staring at each other. Hoper would never make a noise, she was too well trained.

They inched cautiously towards the edge, peering down the stairs as they heard a moan from below…

EYES

Hooper paced up and down silently, starting to worry. Should it take them this long? Surely it shouldn't take them this long. They only had to search a room, for goodness' sake! Had something happened to them? Nah, they were good agents. If only there was a way to contact them…but she wasn't connected to their mic feeds, only to base. Base! She could ask them!

"Base, this is eyes. Do you read me?"

"Base to eyes. Loud and clear. What's the problem?"

She was almost embarrassed. "No problem. I was just...wondering how Recon's getting on. They're taking a long time, is all."

Donovan chuckled on the other end of the line. "Oh, that's so sweet! No, they're fine. In fact, they're just coming back now. Heard from them about a minute ago."

Hooped sighed in relief. They were alright. "That's okay then. I just thought…never mind. Um, talk to you later then, I guess."

"Bye, Hooper."

She reached up to her collar to turn the radio off. As she did so, she turned around to face the stairs, only to find her face buried in a damp, smelly cloth. She felt herself going under, but she fought it, pushing the attacker so he landed against the wall with an "oof!" sound. She then tried slapping her face to keep herself awake, but her knees went weak and she slid to the floor with a moan.

BASE

Donovan turned away from the mic, reaching over to cut off the connection between her and Hooper. Before her hand reached the switch, she froze, hearing an "oof!" sound that certainly did not come from Hooper. She checked she was on the right channel, then listened again intently. Nothing.

"Hooper? Eyes? Are you okay?"

Still nothing. Then, some faint slapping noises.

"Hooper?" Donovan was getting alarmed now. "Hooper, answer me."

There was a moan, then some static that lasted for a few seconds. When it cleared, she heard quick footsteps, sounding like someone was running. No – make that two someones. Down stairs, by the sound of it. If Hooper had positioned herself at the bottom of the stairs as she was supposed to, then either she was being ambushed from above, or that was Recon coming to her rescue.

There was a thump from the speaker, then another slapping noise, harder this time. There was some shouting, but it was muffled, heard through folds of fabric.

Donovan switched over to Anderson's mic, but she still couldn't hear properly. She switched over to Sherlock's feed, in time to hear her yelling, "What have you done to her? What have you given her? What is it?" She kept repeating these words and similar, punctuated with some sickening cracks.

Through the three mixed feeds, she got a good picture of the situation. It sounded like Sherlock was banging someone's head against a wall, demanding to know what he had drugged Hooper with. Anderson was trying to drag her off the person, probably a man judging by the pitch of the pathetic whimpering. There were suddenly new footsteps, loud and fast; and there was another struggle, this time between Anderson and the newcomer.

There was a loud 'crack!' and Donovan flinched as she recognised the sound of a gunshot, followed by a male cry of pain. She sat forward, fearing it might be Anderson that was hurt, but relaxed when she heard his voice, yelling, "Now see what you've done! You've gone and shot him! What did you do that for?" There were more footsteps, running away this time.

Sherlock's voice sounded, low and menacing. "You may be dying, but I can still hurt you." There was a whack, then a long, drawn-out scream that trailed off into a gurgle. "What did you drug her with?"

"Chloroform!" The word echoed for a long time in the empty hallway. Donovan waited, but there was no sound, only heavy breathing for a while. She turned off Sherlock and Anderson's microphones, leaving Hooper's on so she could monitor the situation.

EYES

Hooper groaned and opened her eyes. She had a splitting headache, and her side ached from being stretched out on the hard ground.

The last thing she remembered was being drugged, then pushing the man away and crumpling to the floor. Someone had laid her out in the recovery position. She looked up, and saw Sherlock and Anderson standing a couple of feet apart, staring at her with red faces. She assumed they had been running to get to her, and disregarded it.

She sat up, a hand to her head, groaning. It was then that she saw the man on the floor, a puddle of dark red underneath his shoulder. She froze in shock and stared, gaping.

"Oh, yeah," Sherlock muttered shamefacedly. "That is the reason we need to get out of here quickly. Can you stand?"

BASE

Donovan stood up as Mrs Hudson entered the van. "Any news?"

"Recon managed to find some promising material, Eyes was drugged and by the sounds of it, someone shot someone else and Recon was involved. Nothing form Dance, they've been following the target around and she hasn't done anything since the phone call."

Mrs Hudson closed her eyes and rubbed her hands over her face. Why couldn't she just have a nice, simple mission for once that didn't involve guns? She opened her eyes. "Are Recon coming back? I need to talk with them."

Donovan nodded. "They should be getting here any minute now."

Just as she finished speaking, there was a knock at the back of the van. The two exchanged a glance, then Donovan went to the door and whispered, "Vatican cameos." She waited, then came the reply. "The only water in the forest is the river."

Donovan opened the door, satisfied, and in stumbled Hooper the three agents. Hooper was in the middle, Sherlock and Anderson supporting her under her arms. Mrs Hudson stood up and let Hooper have her chair, and the girl collapsed into it. Her eyes were half-closed and her face was ashen.

"She could stand up when she first came to, but she's getting worse," Sherlock said, her arm around the girl's shoulders. Mrs Hudson gave Sherlock a plastic cup of water, and she gently pressed it to Hooper's mouth. The girl was slumping, but she managed to sip at the water a couple of times before she passed out again.

DANCE

Mike was relieved when he finally got a message in his ear from Donovan, telling him that their job was over. The evening had been awkward at best after they had been listening in on Barker in the old kitchen. Now at least they could try to enjoy the evening, without the stress of watching the target as well. He wished they could leave straight away, but the rule was that no one could leave until the end of the dance.

He frowned. Hang on, he was a trained secret agent. He could get out if he really wanted to. His job was done, there was nothing else for him to do. And if he had some time to himself…

Mike was halfway out the window when he felt a hand on his ankle. He pulled himself back inside to see a very angry Bella glaring at him. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. "This is the boys' toilets!"

"More to the point, what are _you_ doing? Trying to escape?"

He looked around before sullenly hissing the answer. "Yes, I suppose so."

"And you were going to leave me stranded here?"

Another guilty look around. "Yeah, I suppose. I hadn't thought of it like that."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm coming with you."

"What?!"

"How do you think I'm going to explain how my partner disappeared?"

Mike sighed, then jumped back down again. He held out his hand in an old-fashioned manner, and she took it. He then proceeded to guide Bella through the window, carefully and quietly. He went through after her, and not a moment too soon; for as he pulled his feet through the window, he heard the door open and two boys walk in.

BASE

Bella and Mike entered the van as Hooper started to wake up. Bella gasped and rushed over to her. "Is she okay? What happened?"

"She will be," Sherlock answered.

Mrs Hudson broke into the conversation. "I don't suppose there's any point in asking you two how you got out of the dance? The one that you weren't supposed to leave until it had finished?"

Mike looked sheepish. "No, not really."

Mrs Hudson folded her arms. "Very well then. I think we'd all like to know what happened, but this is not the time or place. We will head back to Baker Street, and discuss matters further there."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, please review!


	15. Repercussions

**A/N:** Here is the new chapter you've all been waiting for (well, at least one person has been waiting for). Here is the aftermath of the dance, from several different viewpoints.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Sherlock, I think I'd be a great deal happier than I am now. Also, I'd have got series 3 out ages ago, and be working on at least series 4, if not 5, by now. The moral of the story is that I don't own Sherlock.

* * *

Mycroft stood at the door of Baker Street, waiting for the agents to return after the dance. They had radioed ahead and told him that they were coming back, and what had happened to Hooper.

Eventually the vehicles pulled up, in perfect formation. Watson got out of the driver's seat of the front car, and John exited the passenger's seat. Anderson got out of the next car, and went to the back door to help Sherlock get Hooper out. Donovan and Mrs Hudson exited the van, Mrs Hudson from the front and Donovan from the back. As the agents made their way to the door, three people darted out of the building and put Hooper into a wheelchair. As they took her inside, the others stood before Mycroft.

"Was the mission successful?" he asked, directing the question at Mrs Hudson.

"We believe so, sir," Sherlock replied. "We found a secret space with papers in it, but we have not had a chance to study them yet."

"What exactly happened to Hooper?"

Mrs Hudson answered for Sherlock this time. "I think we'd better get inside before we speak any more about this. You never know who might be listening, even out here." She glanced around as she said the last part.

"Very well," Mycroft replied, and ushered everyone inside.

o0o0o

Half an hour later, Meeting Room one was occupied yet again. Anderson and Sherlock sat together, their chairs touching; and John and Watson sat across the table from them in two chairs next to each other, but a foot apart. Watson had taken off the suit jacket and waistcoat, and John had changed completely into jeans and a T-shirt. Donovan sat at one end of the table, and Mycroft and Mrs Hudson sat at the other in executive chairs.

Mycroft started the meeting by asking Watson how the dance went. He described everything that had happened, minus the fact that he had kissed John. Instead, he said that they had been able to escape notice in the kitchen, which was not strictly true. John, Donovan and Mrs Hudson all looked at him, but they said nothing.

Mycroft then turned his attention to Sherlock, and asked what had happened to her. She told him about searching the room, finding the camera and disabling it (she took out the memory cars at this point and laid it on the table), and about finding the secret stash. She then described how she and Anderson had gone to go downstairs and had heard that Hooper was in trouble. They had watched as Hooper fell to the ground, her attacker stumbling backwards away from her. At that point, the two of them had run down the stairs, seeing that Hooper was in serious trouble.

As Anderson leant over Hooper, checking her vitals, Sherlock had 'dealt with' the attacker. He was a heavy, thickset bloke who wasn't wearing a mask or anything. She had slapped him across the face, hard, and he fell over backwards again into the wall. She started yelling at him, "What have you done to her?" repeating the question over and over. He didn't answer, so she changed her query, saying, "What did you give her? What have you given her?" She kept banging his head against the wall, but he still didn't answer. Eventually, Anderson tried to make her stop hurting him, but she couldn't, not until she could help her friend.

Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps from behind Sherlock, and she turned in time to see Anderson being pushed out of the way by another man, similar-looking to the one who was now on the floor, whimpering. Anderson picked himself up and launched himself at the new attacker, but he was swatted away like a fly. Sherlock readied herself for combat, but then the man drew out a gun and pointed it at her head.

Time froze. Sherlock stepped slowly backwards with her hands raised in surrender. Anderson stood silently behind the armed man, who cocked the pistol and touched it to Sherlock's temple. She swallowed and closed her eyes, waiting for the shot that would end her life.

There was a scuffling noise and a shout, and Sherlock's eyes flickered open to see Anderson attacking the guy with the gun, looking for all the world as if he was being given a piggyback by the large man who shook himself and ran around, trying to dislodge the boy from his back. Sherlock seized the opportunity to grab at the man's hand, but she was grabbed from behind by the other man who had got up from the floor.

There were two struggles going on, two silent scuffles around a girl who lay stretched out on the floor, unconscious. Then there was a crack, and the man let go of Sherlock with a shout. She stumbled away and turned to see him lying on the ground once again, his hand to his shoulder, crying out in pain. Anderson turned to his attacker, who had also let go, and said, "Now look what you've done! You've gone and shot him! What did you do that for?" He spoke as if to a naught child, but the man ignored him, shooting a scared look at his buddy before hightailing it in the direction from whence he had come.

Sherlock knelt next to the man on the floor. She quickly assessed the injury. A bullet, about 9mm by the look of the entrance wound, had been shot under his shoulder, very close to his heart. It wasn't a shot that would kill someone, not instantly anyway. However, she knew he didn't have long left. "What did you give her?" she asked gently. When he shook his head, his face contorted in pain, she straightened up. "You may be dying, but I can still hurt you."

She slapped him across the face, then stamped on his shoulder, right on the bullet wound. The man screamed, and long inhuman yell that chilled her right to the bone. Nonetheless, she kept talking. "What did you drug her with?"

"Chloroform!" the man yelled, the utterance turning into a cry of pain as he gripped his shoulder more tightly. He closed his eyes, a tear leaking out, and beckoned to her with his good hand. She knelt down again. "I'm…sorry…I didn't…mean to…hurt…her…just…making…a…living…" His whispered speech was punctuated by gasps and winces, and she could barely hear him over the echo of his last yell. He then closed his eyes and his body relaxed, his face looking peaceful for the first time.

She took some tweezers out of one of her pockets, and reached out towards the man. Gently and deftly, she plucked the bullet out of the wound and placed it in another of her pockets. That could later be used to trace the gun.

Sherlock stayed where she was for a long time. Anderson bent over and checked the man's vitals, but it was too late, he was gone.

The pair sat down and waited for Hooper to wake up.

o0o0o

After hearing the story, there was silence in the room. Mycroft looked at Anderson, and he confirmed Sherlock's story to the letter. When he was done, everyone looked at Mycroft, but he just sat there, head in his hands. After a while he looked up and said, "All right. You can all go to bed now, and we'll talk this over in the morning. Good night, everyone."

There were murmurs of "goodnight" and one by one the young agents filed out of the room, heading off to bed. Mrs Hudson turned to Mycroft. "What do you think?"

"Of what?"

"Sherlock's story. Is she telling the truth, do you think?"

"Of course I do. I have never had any reason to mistrust and agent, least of all Sherlock. Why should I start now?"

"So you believe that a man appeared out of nowhere, shot Hooper's attacker, and then ran away again?" He sounded sceptical.

Mrs Hudson drew herself up to her full height and stared down at Mycroft. She spoke quietly and calmly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. And I also believe that we need to hunt down this man as soon as possible. After Hooper has been sorted out, and we have sorted the evidence found in Barker's office, then we need to find this man. He may be an important part of this case." With this, she stood and swept out of the room, leaving Mycroft to lock up.

o0o0o

After 11pm, there was a phone call to the Longs' house. Mrs Long picked up the phone and answered. "Hello?"

"Oh hello Mrs Long, I was wondering if Bella was available to talk please."

"Who is this?"

"It's Grace. I just wanted to make sure she got home alright after the dance, you see. I didn't see her for about the second half, and I didn't get to talk to her."

Hang on, Mrs Long thought. Didn't Bella say she was going to stay at Grace's house? She had, she was sure of it.

Cautiously, she answered. "No, I'm afraid Bella isn't home tonight. She's out, you see."

"Oh, I'm sorry. She must have left with Mike, did she?" Before Mrs Long got a chance to reply, Grace continued to speak. "I'm sorry to bother you so late, Mrs Long. I'll talk to Bella tomorrow sometime. Thank you!"

"Goodbye," Mrs Long managed to say, then hung up. She stared at the phone, confused. Where was Bella? Why wasn't she at Grace's house? And who the heck was Mike?

She remembered the strange girl she had seen Bella getting into a car with twice. Who was that girl? Was she something to do with it?

Her stomach twisted as she formed a conclusion. She put the phone away and went to bed, lying with her eyes open for a long time.

o0o0o

Sherlock lay in her dark room, thinking hard. She could hear John's heavy sleep-breathing coming from her floor, and it helped to calm her down. But the thoughts kept swirling round her head.

She had just seen a man die. Oh God, a man had died, only a couple of hours ago, and she watched. And she had hurt him, right at the end. One of his last sensations had been pain. And she had caused him pain. She didn't even know his name.

He had apologised to her. She watched him die, and he had apologised. What a screwed-up world she was in.

And then, she had watched over Hooper. The shy girl, one of her best friends, had lain on the floor unconscious and she had just watched.

The Sherlock remembered what else had happened, after the man had spoken his last words. There was something she had missed out of her earlier rendition of the night's events.

_Sherlock stayed where she was for a long time. Anderson bent over and checked the man's vitals, but it was too late, he was gone._

_She took some tweezers out of one of her pockets, and reached out towards the man. Gently and deftly, she plucked the bullet out of the wound and placed it in another of her pockets. That could later be used to trace the gun._

_The pair sat down and waited for Hooper to wake up._

_After a while, Sherlock felt pressure on her leg. She looked up to see Anderson holding his hand out to her. She took it, and held on tight._

_They stayed that way for a while, then Anderson moved slightly closer to Sherlock. She moved in towards him also, and rested her head on his shoulder. One of his hands came up and started stroking her hair. It was a comforting motion for both Sherlock and Anderson, and felt natural._

_A few minutes later, Sherlock lifted her head to look at Anderson. She turned her face towards him to find his waiting. A moment's pause, their faces inches apart, and then he moved his head forward and his mouth found hers. She could feel his soft lips on hers, and thought for a second that this was crazy, she shouldn't be doing this, but then she pushed those thoughts aside and pushed back on his mouth. They pulled each other closer, deepening the kiss._

_Suddenly there was a quiet moan from the floor beside them, and they broke apart quickly and looked around to see Hooper's eyes flutter open._

Sherlock squeezed her eyes tight shut. She knew she shouldn't have kissed Anderson back. She had a boyfriend, for goodness' sake! And she evidently hadn't been in her right mind at the time. There was a dead man beside them, and an unconscious girl on the floor next to them. It had all felt wrong, but so right somehow. Was that good or bad?

Sherlock gave up thinking and tried to go back to sleep.

John lay on Sherlock's floor, eyes closed, breathing heavily, to all appearances deeply sleep. However, she was wide awake, thinking about the dance. First she had passed off her best friend's boyfriend as her own, then had kissed him (well, he had kissed her, and she kissed him back), then sneaked out with him. She wondered if her friend had noticed that they had gone early. And had she given her mother a fake story on where she'd go after the dance. Yes, she had; he had said she was going to Grace's house.

She kept thinking about other things, but her thoughts kept returning to the kiss. She felt sort of bad about it, but they had been acting. Or had they? She couldn't work it out. She gave up. This whole boyfriend/girlfriend/kissing/romance business was entirely too much, in her opinion.

Anderson lay in his bed, his hands folded behind his head on the pillow. He had kissed Sherlock! He couldn't believe it, he truly couldn't. Sherlock was a pretty girl, and most of the guys at Baker Street were hitting on her, but it had been Watson who had gotten lucky. And now he, Anderson, had kissed her! Fantastic! Not very fair on Watson, true, but it was his bad luck really.

He drifted off to sleep, a smile on his face.

Watson sat up in bed, unable to sleep. He had kissed John. He had been unfaithful to Sherlock. He wasn't sure if it really counted, being acting and all, but he couldn't help feeling sort of bad.

The best thing to do, he decided, would be to front up to Sherlock in the morning and tell her. Would that really be the kindest thing to do, under the circumstances? Or would it be like Sherlock Holmes telling Molly Hooper that her boyfriend was gay?

Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he realised that John was actually okay. Not as pretty as Sherlock, granted, but still nice nonetheless.

After much thought, he decided not to tell Sherlock, after all. He would just try and forget about the event, and pretend it hadn't happened.

The four adolescents had no idea what the others were thinking. They all felt guilty, apart from Anderson, and none could sleep, again excepting Anderson. They all decided to wait until morning before deciding what to do.

o0o0o

The dance had finally ended, the coloured lights taken down and the DJ sent away. After the decorations had all been packed up and everybody had left, a lone woman stalked the hallways of the school. Her heels clicked on the wooden floors, echoing in the gloom. The flooring changed to carpet as she neared the stairwell. She prepared to turn left onto the stairs when suddenly, she found her foot stepping on something that was definitely not carpet. It was too soft.

She carefully pulled a small light out of her pocket and shone it down at the ground. There was something there that looked suspiciously like a denim-covered leg. Upon closer inspection, she found that it was indeed a man's leg. The light travelled up his jean-covered legs, and up his shirt, the bullet wound barely registering, to rest on his face. There was no mistaking that face.

"Billy," Adler moaned, stroking the dead man's face, contorted in pain. "Oh, Billy, what happened to you?"

* * *

**A/N:** There you go, there's the next chapter. Please review, let me know how you think it's going, anything from praise to hate mail is appreciated (the later maybe less so).

Thank you!


	16. Argument

**A/N:** Well, hello there again. Sorry I haven't updated in a while (okay, _ages_), but I've been busy with work, exams, other stories, the like. In fact, this chapter is only going up because my friend kept nagging me to.

If all goes well, there should be another chapter up sometime in the next two weeks. In the meantime, please read and review! And check out some of my other stories as well, if you like.

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Sherlock...otherwise it wouldn't be fanfiction, would it?

* * *

On Saturday morning, everybody at Baker Street was sitting in the dining room having breakfast. All the operatives who had been on the mission the previous night sat together at a table, save for Hooper, who was apparently still recuperating in the med bay.

When they sat down, Anderson sat down next to Sherlock immediately and Donovan took the seat at the end of the table, leaving John and Watson no choice but to sit together. They sat uncomfortably, not making eye contact and trying to avoid bumping elbows as they cut their pancakes. Anderson, on the other hand, sat as close to Sherlock as he could while still staying on his chair, while she sat away from him. Donovan sat silently, tense and not looking at anything but her plate. She hardly ate any food.

After the meal, Sherlock drove John home. The girls both sat in silence, looking out at the scenery. John had just about worked out where Baker Street was in relation to her house, and reckoned she could probably get there if she ever needed to.

As the black car pulled up to the house, Sherlock turned to John and smiled awkwardly. "Sorry I haven't been very…talkative, it's just…"

John smiled back reassuringly. "Don't worry, I understand."

"You do?"

"Well, you had a man…pass away right next to you last night. I'm sure that would leave a scar. As long as you're okay." She grinned again and started off towards her house, leaving Sherlock behind in the car, staring after her friend. That, and more besides, she thought, then started up the car again and drove off towards Baker Street.

A worried woman watched the car pull up at the Longs' house, and watched Bella get out of the car and exchange some words with the driver. As the car moved away from the kerb, she watched carefully and could see the driver in profile. It was definitely a girl, about Bella's age, wearing a hoodie pulled up over her head so her face was not visible. There was something about the way the girl held herself that was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it.

Mrs Long turned away from the window and hurried downstairs to the kitchen to meet her daughter.

Bella closed the back door behind her with a bang. "I'm home!" she called out, the words echoing through the house.

Her mother appeared from around the corner, patting her hair into place on top of her head. "Hello sweetie! How was the party?" She wore a large smile, almost too large, and Bella frowned slightly.

"It was good, I guess." She struggled to remember something about the dance. "The DJ was okay, but the songs were too old for most people's tastes."

"Good thing you had a good time though, right?"

"Um…yeah…" Her mother was definitely acting strange, Bella thought, and started to pick up her bags again.

Her mother suddenly remarked, a little too casually, "Grace called last night."

Bella stopped. "Oh?"

"Yeah. She wanted to check you got home all right, after the dance and all."

Bella smiled politely at her mother and started to move again, before stopping dead. Hang on. Didn't she say to her she was going home with Grace? Oh no…

She turned to face her mother, opening her mouth to make an excuse, but her mother stopped her with a raised hand. "Who's Mike?"

Bella's mouth opened slightly in shock. How did she know about Mike? Grace must have told her…oh no…

"Never mind," she mumbled and tried to push past her mother, but the woman placed her hand against the opposite wall of the narrow kitchen, effectively blocking her daughter's way out.

"But I do mind, Bella. I mind that you have a friend you haven't told me about. I mind that you've been driving around town with a girl your age, who probably doesn't have a licence. I'm not even going to question why she's called Mike, I will assume that it's short for Michaela or something. Also, I mind that you've been lying to me about where you've been, and who you've been with. I really thought I could trust you, Bella, but apparently I was wrong."

Bella looked at the ground ashamedly. Her mother really knew how to make someone feel bad.

She straightened her back and looked up again. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me who Mike is, and why you didn't tell me about her."

"I don't think I can."

"Oh, I think you can, Bella. Who is she?"

"No, I mean, while I am physically able to tell you, I'm not sure I'm allowed to."

"I give you permission. Who is Mike?"

"I need permission from a higher authority."

"I am your mother, there is no higher authority."

"How about the government?"

"Why would they need to give you permission to answer a question?"

Bella stood upright, and looked right at her mother for the first time in the conversation. "Because Mike, and the girl I was with in the car, who by the way are not the same person, are part of a much higher authority, a federal authority, of which I am not allowed to speak. Is that a good enough answer?"

Mrs Long rolled her eyes. "All right then; now what's the real answer?"

"That was the real answer!" Bella cried indignantly. "What more do you want?"

"Hmm, maybe something that's believable would be good!" her mother shouted. "I mean, honestly, kids doing federal stuff? What, like spies? You may be a teenager, young lady, but that does not give you permission to lie and sneak around like this! You hear? Now, who is Mike?"

Bella set her mouth and a grim line. "I already told you. Basically. And if you won't accept that, then I'm not staying here any longer." And with that she turned and walked back out the door, slamming it behind her.

By the time her mother managed to open the door, Bella was turning around the corner of the house. "Wait! I'm sorry!"

"Bye, mum. I'll be back soon." came the reply from around the corner.

"Where will you go?" the woman yelled desperately, but her daughter was gone.

"Great," Mrs Long muttered. "Just great."

o0o0o

As soon as Bella was off the property, she started to run. Her feet pounded the pavement desperately and her breathing became rough and irregular as she sped along, head down, with no idea where she was going or what she was doing or anything. She got a few quizzical looks from people as she dashed past them, neighbours and family friends and the like.

Eventually Bella found herself slowing down as she came up to the park, stopping at the spot where she used to meditate and think about life, and death. Her feet had brought her back to this place without her telling them to.

Bella flopped onto the grass and closed her eyes, lying back. She opened her eyes again and looked up at the sky. It was mostly covered with clouds, but there were some blue patches shining through the dull grey. Just like my life, she thought as she shut her eyes again.

Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. She reached into her pocket, pulling out her mobile phone. She quickly found the number that Sherlock had given her for Baker Street and dialled it, holding the phone to her ear with a shaking hand.

"Hello?" a friendly voice answered.

"Watson? Is that you?"

"Who is this?"

"It's John," Bella said, the code name rolling automatically off her tongue.

"John! What's up?"

"I…I had a fight with my mother, and…and…" She felt so silly, admitting this to Watson. "I was wondering…if I could..."

"If you could come and camp out at Baker Street, until she cools down?" Watson supplied for her gently. He seemed to understand the situation perfectly, and he sounded as if he really cared about her.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Well, Sherlock isn't back yet from dropping you off. I can try and get hold of her, to tell her to go back and get you."

"Oh, yes please!" Bella sounded truly grateful.

"Where are you now? I'm guessing not at home."

"No, I'm at the park." And she gave the address.

"Okay, I'll get right on it. See you soon, John."

"You too." The line cut off, and Bella brought her hand in front of her, staring at the phone.

A few minutes later, the phone rang again in her hand, and Bella jumped. She hadn't realised she was still holding it in front of her. The number that came up was the Baker Street number, and she answered it quickly.

"Hello? Watson?"

"John? Look, I can't get hold of Sherlock, she's not answering for some reason. So she can't go collect you, sorry."

"Oh," Bella said, sounding disappointed.

Watson continued, "If you want, I could come and get you? We have a car free, and I'm not busy at the moment."

"Oh, would you?"

"Of course. Anything for such a good dancer." She could hear the smile in his voice, and she grinned despite herself.

"Thank you Watson, I owe you one."

"Any time, John."

The line cut off. John lay back in the grass, staring up at the sky again. The clouds had moved so the blue patch was larger. The bright sun was starting to shine through the grey clouds, bathing the park in a light glow.

o0o0o

John was lying in the same position when she heard a car horn tooting, about a quarter of an hour later. She sat up and looked over to see a nondescript car sitting on the road, like the one she had come back from Baker Street in.

She got up and ran over to the car, and the driver's window rolled down to reveal Watson's now-familiar figure sitting looking straight ahead. She coughed slightly, and Watson's head turned to face her. He was grinning from ear to ear, but that wasn't the only surprise on his face.

For on his top lip, there was a dark, bushy moustache that completely transformed the boy's look.

Still grinning, he said, "John, I moustache you a question."

John could do nothing but stare dumbfoundedly. "Watson, your face!"

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I got the idea for the moustache from the season 3 trailer. Watch it, if you haven't already! And if you have, watch it again!

Reviews are like butterflies. they float in and make my day that bit better. Please review!

Thank you for reading this story, by the way.


End file.
